s. 

I 


••••Hi 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 

Clarence  Staples 


BLACK  FRIDAY 


BLACK  FRIDAY 


By 

FREDERIC  S.  ISHAM 


AUTHOR   OF 

UNDER  THE  ROSE 
THE  STROLLERS 


WITH    ILLUSTRATIONS    BY 

HARRISON  FISHER 


INDIANAPOLIS 

THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT  1904 
THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 

OCTOBER 


PRESS  OF 

BRAUNWORTH  &  CO. 

BOOKBINDERS  AND  PRINTERS 

BROOKLYN,  N.  Y. 


?s 


TO  H.  F.  I. 


CONTENTS 

BOOK  I 
FLUCTUATIONS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I    THE  PHJNCE  AND  THE  CHARIOT  1 

II    A  FLURRY  is  HEARTS  19 

III  DEVELOPMENTS  33 

IV  A  LITTLE  SMILE;   A  Bio  WEDDING  45 
V    WHY  TIM  WAS  EXCITED  58 

VI     AT  GAY  SARATOGA  67 

VII     THE  TELEGRAM  AND  ITS  SEQUEL  78 

VIII     AN  INTERRUPTED  HONEYMOON  91 

IX    THE  RETURN  OF  RICHARD  STRONG  100 

X    A  FLUTTER  IN  VALUES  111 

XI     CHARLIE  ENDEAVORS  TO  NEGOTIATE  AN  IDEA       123 

XII    MR.  ROSSITER  VISITS  THE  STREET  136 

XIII  A  DAY  FOR  REFLECTION  148 

XIV  ELINOR  MAKES  A  RESOLUTION  162 
XV     ELINOR  BREAKS  A  RESOLUTION  170 

XVI     MR.  DALTON  TAKES  A  SUDDEN  RESOLUTION         180 

XVII     AN  INTERRUPTED  DANCE  193 

BOOK   II 
BLACK  FRIDAY 

I     MR.  STRONG  RETURNS  207 

II     CHARLIE  VISITS  THE  GOLD-ROOM  216 

III  RICHARD  STRONG  is  STARTLED  225 

IV  A  FIGURE  IN  THE  MOONLIGHT  232 


CHAPTER  PAOK 

V  ELINOR  SITS  UP  LATE  245 

VI  THE  WRITER  OF  THE  LETTER  254 

VII  BEFORE  THE  BATTLE  262 

VIII  BLACK  FRIDAY  278 

IX  NOON  286 

X  THE  END  OF  THE  DAY  294 

XI  THE  MASTER  OF  THE  SITUATION  300 

XII  THE  DAY  OF  SETTLEMENT  308 

XIII  DALTON  is  PUZZLED  319 

XIV  THE  SHADOW  REPUDIATES  His  ALLEGIANCE        327 


BOOK  III 
READJUSTMENT 

I     AN  INTERRUPTED  SONG  337 

II     AN  ENFORCED  SOJOURN  348 

III  THE  GAMIN  AND  THE  ROSE  356 

IV  AN  UNSUCCESSFUL  SEARCH  364 
V    A  STRANGE  ENCOUNTER  373 

VI     THE  BREAKING  OF  THE  DAY  379 

VII     A  MYSTERIOUS  MESSAGE  385 

VIII     RICHARD  STRONG  LEAVES  PARIS  392 

IX    AFTER  SEVERAL  MONTHS  397 


BLACK     FRIDAY 


BOOK   I 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  PRINCE  AND  THE  CHAEIOT 


The  white  fingers  moved  uncertainly  over  the  whiter 
keys,  a  hesitating  accompaniment  to  a  voice,  once  a 
tenor,  now  a  breath. 

"Ah,  Roberto—" 

A  fit  of  coughing  interrupted  the  singer  ;  one  hand  yet 
continued  to  play  irresolutely,  as  if  waiting  for  the 
vocal  melody,  but  bravura  and  recitativo  were  gone  be- 
yond recall  ;  the  fingers  ceased  their  hopeless  strumming, 
and  rested,  at  a  loss,  on  an  unresolved  chord. 

Some  one  laughed. 

"Oh,  papa,  you  are  too  droll  !" 

A  small  hand  held  back  the  frayed,  somber  drapery  of 
the  doorway;  a  girlish  figure  stood  framed  by  the  dark 


2  BLACK  FEIDAY 

walnut.  A  morning  toilet  of  mauve-colored  fabric 
caught  the  sheen  of  sunlight;  voluminous  as  one  of  the 
gowns  of  Lely,  it  swathed,  yet  clung  not  to,  the  slender 
form.  Beneath  a  head-dress  of  chenille  and  bead  net- 
work, brown  curls  gently  swept  the  white  brow. 

The  performer  arose,  a  half-petulant  look  on  his  thin, 
refined  face. 

"And  you,  my  child,  are  too  forward !"  he  said. 

"I  couldn't  help  it,  papa!" 

Another  laugh,  and  the  frame  lost  its  picture;  the 
voluminous  skirt  rustled  as  the  speaker  entered  the  room. 

"Besides,  it  was  too  absurd !"  she  added. 

"Absurd !— " 

"Not  you,  but  the  butcher !" 

He  stared  at  her.  In  the  full  light,  the  dominant 
characteristics  of  his  face  were  pitilessly  revealed ;  weak- 
ness and  pride ;  artistic  effeminacy,  mixed  with  a  certain 
hauteur;  a  man  of  dilettantism,  perhaps,  but  the  dilet- 
tantism of  the  old  school  that  included  pre-Raphaelite 
pictures,  arias,  cadenza's,  and  the  Sapphic  stanzas  ad- 
dressed to  our  foremothers'  gloves,  or  ringlets. 

"The  butcher  ?"  he  repeated  incredulously. 

She  nodded.  "Yes;  our  neighbor;  our  bosom  friend, 
the  butcher !  He  called — at  the  front  door !"  And  she 
held  up  a  card.  "Mr.  Thomas  Jenkins,  Esquire!  He 
asked  for  mama,  and  when  the  maid  said  mama  was  out. 


THE  PRINCE  AND  THE  CHARIOT         3 

he  went  out  and  slammed  the  front  door.  It's  about  the 
bill,  I  suppose,  papa.  Shall  I  put  the  card  on  the  tray 
with  mama's  other  callers?  Fancy  their  consternation, 
sandwiched  with  Mr.  Thomas  Jenkins,  dealer  in  tender- 
loins !" — flourishing  the  bit  of  pasteboard. 

"Put  the  card  in  the  fire,  Elinor,"  he  said  absently. 
"We  shall  trade  with  Jenkins  no  more." 

"He  cut  us  off  a  fortnight  ago,"  she  laughed. 

With  this  the  speaker  relapsed  into  silence  and  a 
chair,  stifling  a  little  yawn  as  she  sank  back  into  the 
capacious  depths,  and  patting  down  reflectively  her  gown 
which  outflowed  with  that  prodigal  waste  of  material 
characteristic  of  those  days  of  silks,  satins,  pop- 
lins and  passementeries.  So  she  seemed  buried,  over- 
whelmed beneath  the  multitude  of  delicate  flowers  woven 
in  the  pattern  of  her  dress.  Her  face  looked  out  from 
lilacs;  the  tip  of  a  foot,  very  small,  peeped  from  beneath 
the  flowery  vestment,  and  impatiently  tapped  a  faded 
carpet  that  had  once  been  quite  grand,  but  which  was 
now  only  a  mournful  reminder  of  gorgeous  roses  and 
rococo  wreaths ;  the  more  mournful,  alas !  because  car- 
pets, unlike  pictures,  do  not  improve  with  age  and  the 
partial  obliteration  of  their  pristine  brightness. 

"Bills!  bills!  bills!"  A  tap  of  the  foot  with  each 
word. 


4  BLACK  FRIDAY 

The  old  gentleman  just  perceptibly  shrugged  his 
shoulders  as  if  to  say :  "Well,  my  dear,  what  of  it  ?" 

' 'From  Thomas  Jenkins,  Esquire ;  from  Brown,  Jones 
and  Robinson;  from  Madam  Upstart  and  Mademoiselle 
Parvenu — papa,  is  there  anybody  we  don't  owe?" 

Another  faint  shrug  of  the  shoulders;  an  angrier  tap 
of  the  foot. 

"Yesterday  I  bought  a  habit.  'Send  that  to  Miss  Eli- 
nor Rossiter/  I  said  to  the  clerk.  What  did  he  reply? 
*Mise  Rossiter !  Oh,  certainly !  And  won't  you  look  at 
this  coiffure?  Won't  you  take  this  ruff?'  No:  that's 
the  way  he  would  have  answered  the  other  women.  Hi 
didn't  urge  poor  me,  but  hesitated ;  wrote  the  address  in 
a  melancholy  manner,  and  bade  me  a  thoughtful  good 
day.  And" — with  flashing  eyes — "the  habit  hasn't  come 
yet!  Papa,  why  don't  you — fix  things  with  the  shop- 
keepers and  other  tradespeople?" 

"Quite  right,  my  dear ;  quite  right !"  spoke  up  a  deep 
voice,  and,  with  the  words,  the  speaker,  bearing  the 
weight  of  her  presence  to  lend  emphasis  to  her  approval, 
swept  into  the  room. 

A  woman  of  decided  emphasis  herself ;  a  chin  that  was 
emphasized  by  being  double ;  a  face  that  was  emphasized 
by  the  height  of  her  hair ;  a  figure  that  was  emphasized 
with  avoirdupois ;  the  whole,  or  sum  total  of  her  appear- 
ance being  emphasized  by  a  stupendous  dress  which  stood 


THE  PEINCE  AND  THE  CHAEIOT         5 

out  like  a  bell;  an  expansive  pardessus  of  black  silk,  an 
exaggerated  underskirt,  vastly  trimmed  and  adorned; 
ridiculous,  perhaps,  yet  "with  circumference  mighty,  to 
repel  all  invasion,"  both  formidable  and  disconcerting 
to  the  masculine  mind  ! 

"Quite  right !"  repeated  Mrs.  Eossiter,  majestically. 

Mr.  Eossiter's  shrug  gave  way  to  words;  Miss  Eossi- 
ter's  queries  might  be  dismissed  with  a  gesture,  but  Mrs. 
Eossiter  was  not  lightly  to  be  set  aside. 

"Certainly,  Madam ;  exactly !"  murmured  Mr.  Eossi- 
ter, vaguely. 

"There's  Charles,  the  coachman,"  went  on  Mrs.  Eossi- 
ter. "He  had  the  impudence  to  come  to  me  for  his 
wages — and  when  I  told  him  to  apply  to  the  proper  au- 
thority, muttered  something  about  'much  good  it  would 
do  him.5 " 

"And  look  at  Susan,  mama !"  spoke  up  Miss  Eossiter. 
"When  I  asked  her  to  be  quick  about  dressing  my  hair 
for  the  madrigal  concert,  she  said  something  about  slow 
pay." 

"I  was  thinking,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Eossiter,  passing 
his  white  hand  languidly  through  his  white  hair,  "we 
might  dispense  with  Charles'  services  and  dispose  of  the 
horses." 

"What !— sell  my  horses !    Walk !" 

"Why  not?"— gently. 


6  BLACK  FRIDAY 

"Edwin,  you're  a  fool." 

This  time  Mr.  Kossiter  did  shrug  his  shoulders,  but 
•whether  in  mild  expostulation,  incredulous  dissent,  or 
implied  contradiction  was  not  made  clear.  At  that  mo- 
ment he  was  more  concerned  with  the  fact  that  the  truth 
must  come  out,  sooner  or  later.  Sooner,  by  Mrs.  Rossi- 
ter's  present  temper!  The  disagreeable,  bare,  bald 
truth! 

Mr.  Kossiter  preferred  to  drift  through  life's  troubled 
seas;  with  him,  it  was  "better  to  hold  back  the  truth 
than  speak  it  ungraciously."  Virtues  that  plagued  you ! 
— fie !  Infirmities,  without  the  thorn,  were  the  more  eas- 
ily entertained !  Unconsciously,  in  his  policy  of  the  art 
of  living  with  the  least  trouble  to  himself,  he  modified 
the  old  proverb,  and  "Peace  if  possible,  but  truth  at  any 
rate"  became  with  Mr.  Kossiter  "Truth  if  possible,  but 
peace  at  any  rate." 

"You  know,  my  dear,"  he  at  length  said,  "we  have 
for  some  years  been  encroaching  on  my  capital.  Instead 
of  confining  ourselves  to  the  income — we  spent  double. 
Proportionately  as  the  principal  and  the  income  de- 
creased, our  expenses  increased.  It  is  a  simple  banking 
problem  to  compute  how  long  on  this  diminishing  scale 
the  capital  will  last.  In  our  case  about  twenty  years 
have  gone  by  and  now  the  income  has  at  length  devoured 


THE  PRINCE  AND  THE  CHARIOT         7 

the  principal !  Both  are  gone.  We  have  killed  the  goose 
that  laid  the  golden  egg." 

It  was  a  long  speech  for  Mr.  Rossiter;  almost  a 
maiden  effort  from  the  domestic  rostrum.  He  was  in 
the  main  a  silent  man;  one  of  that  great  army  of  dis- 
creet persons  who  hold  "a  habit  of  secrecy  is  both  politic 
and  moral."  Now  that,  perforce,  he  had  discarded  the 
habit,  he  waited  calmly  the  eruption  that  would  follow. 

"We  have  spent  your  money,"  said  Mrs.  Rossiter, 
grimly.  "It  was  not  much." 

"But  somewhat  more  than  your  own  fortune,  Mad- 
am." 

"I  was  a  vain,  silly,  romantic  girl,  or  I  would  not  have 
married  a  diminishing  income." 

"It  is  highly  nattering,  my  dear,  that  you  married 
me,"  answered  Mr.  Rossiter,  in  a  courtly  manner. 

"You !  Fudge !  All  my  friends  warned  me  against  the 
match." 

"And  in  spite  of  their  warnings,  you  had  your  way." 

"Goodness  knows  where  ifs  all  gone  to!"  observed 
Mrs.  Rossiter,  irrelevantly.  "I  never  bought  a  hat  and 
paid  what  they  asked.  I  never  missed  a  bargain  sale  in 
my  life,  and  no  one  ever  bought  more  at  them.  No 
woman  ever  stinted  and  pinched  as  I  have  done !  Hasn't 
the  cook  always  had  orders  to  save  the  cheese  parings 


8  BLACK  FRIDAY 

and  candle  ends?  Was  anything  ever  wasted?  But  it 
is  so  like  the  man  to  blame  the  woman — " 

"My  dear,  I  am  not  blaming  any  one ;  I  am  only  stat- 
ing a  fact." 

"That  I  must  give  up  my  carriage  ?  Never !  If  you've 
spent  your  money — use  mine." 

Mr.  Rossiter  flushed  furiously.  His  throat  felt  very 
dry ;  his  supineness  was  followed  by  a  momentary  excita- 
tion of  feeling. 

"I  am  very  sorry,  my  dear,  but — "  he  began. 

"But  what— but  what?  Why  doesn't  the  man  speak?" 

"Your  money,  Madam,  as  you  know,  was  invested  by 
me  in  bonds  of  the  southern  states."  Mr.  Rossiter  hesi- 
tated. 

"Well?  Well?"— impatiently. 

"And  these  bonds" — speaking  with  difficulty — "have 
been  recently  repudiated." 

"Bonds !— repudiated !    What  does  that  mean  ?" 

"It  means,  my  dear,  that  a  community  which  sold  its 
paper  and  received  money  for  it,  now  declares  that  paper 
invalid.  In  other  words,  the  bonds,  purchased  in  good 
faith  by  innocent  investors,  have  been  outlawed  by  the 
legislature  of  the  very  state  which  issued  them." 

Mrs.  Rossiter  did  not  turn  white, — that  was  impossi- 
ble; but  her  face  grew  a  shade  less  rosy;  her  eyes 
snapped;  her  figure  appeared  to  expand  indefinitely. 


THE  PRINCE  AND  THE  CHARIOT         9 

Mr.  Rossiter  grew  proportionately  smaller;  he  also  be- 
came absently  interested  in  what  was  going  on  outside — 
the  pictures  in  the  room — anything  save  Mrs.  Rossiter. 
Miss  Rossiter's  lips  parted  ironically ;  she  curled  up  more 
easily  in  the  great  chair  like  a  spectator  who  settles  her- 
self for  comfort  as  the  curtain  goes  up. 

Les  Precieuses  Ridicules  or  Ecole  des  Maris!  Miss 
Rossiter  had  not  been  long  home  from  school,  and  the 
French  comedies  were  still  fresh  in  her  mind.  Her  head 
lay  daintily  against  the  rosewood  carving  of  the  chair; 
her  toe  had  vanished ;  the  shadow  pf  a  smile  now  played 
about  her  mouth.  The  comedy;  the  irony;  the  tragedy 
of  pounds,  shillings  and  pence ! 

"You  mean  my  money's  gone  I"  spoke  up  Mrs.  Rossi- 
ter, ominously. 

"I  mean  it  is  invested  in  southern  states  bonds,"  said 
Mr.  Rossiter,  clearing  his  throat. 

"Which— are— valueless  I" 

"The  action  of  the  legislature  was  entirely  unexpected, 
Madam.  Some  of  the  best  banks  hold  these  bonds. 
When  I  invested  your  money  in  them,  it  was,  as  I  told 
you,  on  the  most  conservative  advice  in  the  Street. 
The  credit  of  the  state  has  heretofore  been  held  in- 
violable." 

"Fiddlesticks !  After  frittering  away  your  own  for- 
tune— you  now  rob  me  of  mine !" 


10  BLACK  FRIDAY 

The  slight  figure  of  the  man  came  to  life;  it  seemed 
about  to  spring  into  resentful  action;  but  the  great  fig- 
ure grew  greater,  more  overwhelming,  more  indignant, 
more  crushing! 

"Yes,  rob!  rob P 

He  did  not  answer.    A  moment  she  waited. 

"You're  a  fool;  you  always  were;  you  always  will 
be !"  And  Mrs.  Rossiter  swept  from  the  room. 

Mr.  Rossiter  stood  by  the  window.  He  was  paler  than 
his  wont;  his  hand  trembled.  The  girl  continued  to 
watch ;  she  seemed  studying  him  impersonally,  as  one 
might  almost  observe  a  stranger.  Was  he  handsome? 
Yes ;  after  a  fragile,  womanly  fashion.  The  strength  of 
his  family  had  gone  into  his  ancestors ;  he  remained  the 
surviving  shadow. 

Without,  a  hand-organ  began  to  play,  and  the  strains 
of  the  latest  popular  piece  of  the  concert  saloons,  the  sad 
melody  of  Polly  Perlcins,  floated  far  and  near  in  that 
aristocratic  neighborhood : 

"I'm  a  broken-hearted  milkman,  in  grief  I'm  arrayed, 
Through  keeping  the  company  of  a  young  serving-maid — " 

The  man  at  the  crank  thought  Mr.  Rossiter  was  look- 
ing at  him  and  all  the  sunshine  of  Italy  beamed  from  his 
countenance ;  he  even  sent  a  monkey  toward  the  window, 
but  at  the  aspect  of  that  agile  and  hairy  form,  and  tha 


THE  PRINCE  AND  THE  CHARIOT        11 

gibbering  face  suddenly  and  unexpectedly  thrust  before 
him,  Mr.  Rossiter  drew  back  with  an  abrupt  exclama- 
tion. The  girl  in  the  chair  began  to  laugh. 

"Give  him  something,  papa,"  she  said.  "Just  to  show 
we  can  give  him,  if  we  want  to." 

Mechanically  Mr.  Rossiter  felt  in  his  waistcoat  and 
drew  forth  a  piece  of  silver,  which  he  regarded  du- 
biously. 

"Give  it  to  him." 

"But,  my  dear,  this  is  twenty-five — " 

"We  can't  be  any  poorer.  And  imagine  how  rich  he'll 
think  we  are !" 

"The  monkey,  or  the  man?"  observed  Mr.  Rossiter, 
with  a  feeble  attempt  at  levity. 

"Both,  you  goose!" 

Whereupon  the  father  lifted  the  window  and  handed 
the  coin  to  the  chattering  petitioner^  who  grasped  it  in 
his  eager  paw  and  vanished  downward  with  mercenary 
and  sordid  glee.  But  the  expression  of  the  performer 
is  beyond  words  to  depict ;  doffing  his  cap,  he  bowed  and 
bowed,  and  smiled  and  smiled ;  then  grasping  the  handle 
of  his  instrument  he  played  frantically,  presto,  prestis- 
simo, the  while  he  bobbed  the  monkey  up  and  down  with 
a  string,  as  if  the  higher  its  leaps  the  more  apparent  his 
own  overwhelming  gratitude. 

"There !"  observed  the  girl.    "In  his  mind— deluded 


12  BLACK  FEIDAY 

heathen ! — we  are  richer  than  any  one  on  the  street.  I'm 
sure  Miss  Vanderhoff,  who  is  worth  five  millions,  never 
gave  him  more  than  five  cents.  As  we  gave  him  five 
times  that,  we  must  be  worth  twenty-five  millions  at 
least.  Think  of  it,  papa !  Are  there  twenty-five  millions 
in  the  world?" 

Mr.  Eossiter  started.  "Twenty-five  millions !"  he  re- 
peated slowly.  "They  say  Richard  Strong  has  twice 
that." 

"Mr.  Strong,"  repeated  the  girl.  "Such  a — common- 
place man  and  such  a  princely  fortune !" 

"My  dear,  it  is  the — commonplace  men,  as  you  call 
them,  who  are  the  princes  nowadays." 

"I  suppose  so.  The  modern  Cinderella  is  carried  off 
by  Mr.  Nobody  who  everybody  thinks  is  Somebody. 
There  is  no  such  thing  as  fairy  tales  in  this  prosaic  life 
any  more." 

Mr.  Eossiter  did  not  answer.  "The  handsome  prince 
with  his  golden  chariot !"  went  on  the  girl.  "Where  is 
he  ?  The  only  man  I  know  who  really  looks  like  a  prince 
is  Cousin  Charlie,  and  I'm  sure  lie  hasn't  any  golden 
chariot.  He's  as  poor  as  Cinderella  herself."  She 
thrust  out  her  foot  with  a  little  ironical  exclamation.  "It 
isn't  so  very  large,  is  it?" — and  then  tucked  it  back 
quickly ;  "but  too  large  for  Cinderella !" 

"My  child,"  said  Mr.  Eossiter,  deliberately,  although 


THE  PRINCE  AND  THE  CHARIOT         13 

hesitatingly,  "Mr.  Strong  called  on  me  not  long  ago. 
He — asked  permission  to  pay  you  his  addresses." 

The  rose-pink  of  her  cheek  deepened. 

"You  mean  to — marry  me?"  she  asked  with  feigned 
composure.  Then  she  gave  a  little  gasp  and  laughed. 

"He  makes  up  his  mind  very  quickly,  doesn't  he, 
papa?  I  suppose  that's  because  he  is  such  a  good  busi- 
ness man.  A  man  of  quick  decision !  That's  what  the 
newspapers  say  of  him.  'Mr.  Strong  buys  the  famous 
running-horse,  Jolly  Fellow.  Took  in  his  points  at  a 
glance !'  Or,  'Mr.  Strong  buys  a  railroad.  Just  five 
minutes  in  deciding.  He  will  rehabilitate  it.'  Per- 
haps he  wants  to  rehabilitate  me!  What  did  you  say 
when  he  asked  you,  papa  ?" 

Mr.  Rossiter  regarded  her  helplessly. 

"That — it  was  your  affair,  not  mine!" 

The  girl  arose  quickly  and  threw  her  arms  around 
Kis  neck. 

"You're  a  dear  !"  she  said. 

"A  moment  ago  it  was  a  goose,"  he  answered,  as  she 
drew  back,  surveying  him  with  a  half-maternal,  half- 
affectionate  regard. 

"Well,  a  dear  goose,  then!"  Her  look  became  very 
searching.  "Why  didn't  you  tell  mama?" 

He  shifted  uneasily.     The  question  was   obviously 


14  BLACK  FRIDAY 

both  embarrassing  and  unexpected.  "How  do  you  know 
I  did  not?" 

"Because  she  hasn't  said  anything  about  it.  Be- 
cause she  hasn't — "  Abruptly  she  broke  off.  "The 
truth  !" — placing  her  hands  on  his  shoulders.  "Why — 
didn't — you — tell — mama  ?" 

<(Well,  the  fact  of  the  matter  is,"  he  began,  "I  was 
afraid—" 

"That  mama  might  jump  at  the  chance !" 

His  manner  became  apologetic. 

"Well,  you  know  your  mother  is — we  might  say — a 
practical  sort  of  woman,  and — I  was  afraid  she — " 

The  girl  laughed  loudly;  the  explanation  died  away. 

"Poor  mama !"  said  Elinor.  "What  she  has  missed ! 
This  is  delicious !  And  what  did — he  say  ?" 

"He— who?" 

"The  fairy  prince !" 

Mr.  Rossiter  was  becoming  more  bewildered.  His 
daughter's  mood  was  like  the  whirlwind;  it  blew  him 
hither  and  thither. 

"Mr.  Strong  said — ahem — " 

"His  exact  words,  papa!"  The  hands  tightened  on 
his  shoulders;  the  brown  eyes  probed  him. 

"He  didn't  really  say  anything,  my  dear.  Perhaps 
he  looked  a  little  taken  aback — " 

The  hands  fell  from  the  old  man's  shoulders. 


THE  PRINCE  AND  THE  CHARIOT        15 

"Of  course,"  she  said,  "he  is  used  to  getting  control 
of  whatever  he  wants.  Anything  that  is  wrecked !  Then 
he  restores  the  circulation ! — isn't  that  what  you  call  it  ? 
Did  you  speak  to  him  about  mama's  bonds,  papa?" 

Mr.  Rossiter  sighed.  He  had  wished  to  forget  the 
scene  his  daughter  had  witnessed. 

"I  believe  I  did  mention  the  matter  to  him  some  time 
ago.  I  asked  him  if  he  regarded  the  bonds  as  a  hope- 
less investment  and  he  replied  he  so  regarded  them ;  that 
he  had  never  had  any  confidence  in  them !" 

"Then  he  knows  that  we  are  anemic ;  like  some  of  the 
railroads  he  picks  up  ?" 

"Really,  my  dear,  I  will  say  that  Mr.  Strong  is  a  man 
of  unimpeachable  rectitude.  That  he  has  a  genuine  re- 
gard for  you,  I  have  no  doubt.  'Mr.  Rossiter,'  he  said, 
'I  have  met  your  daughter  and — ' " 

The  girl  placed  her  hand  playfully  over  her  father's 
lips. 

"Hush,  papa !"  she  said.  "He  met  me  but  twice. 
Once  at  Mrs.  Tanning's  and  once  at  Miss  Van  Dolsen's. 
On  both  occasions  he  spoke  to  me;  I  answered;  we 
parted !  Quite  romantic,  dear,  don't  you  think  so  ?" 

"I  had  made  up  my  mind  not  to  mention  the  matter, 
Elinor,"  he  said,  not  without  compunction. 

"Then  why  did  you  ?"— quickly. 

"It  seemed  to  come  out  naturally — " 


16  BLACK  FEIDAY 

"In  connection  with  the  fifty  millions !" 

An  expression  of  real  distress  mantled  his  oversensi- 
tive face. 

"Elinor—" 

"There ! — I'm  not  blaming  you.  After  all,  it  was  the 
monkey's  fault !"  she  said,  smiling.  "I  believe  that  mon- 
key will  haunt  me,"  she  went  on,  after  a  pause.  "How 
he  wanted  the  money ;  the  money !  How  he  begged  for 
it ;  implored  it !  And  how  he  jumped  when  he  got  it ! 
What  a  frightfully  terrible  and  human  thing  he  looked 
like — peering  through  the  window !  As  if  he  would  have 
done  anything  to  get  it !" 

Mr.  Eossiter  again  shifted  uneasily;  philosophizing 
was  not  in  his  line.  Besides,  the  morning  had  been  a 
trying  one  and  he  felt  the  need  of  fresh  air. 

"Well,  my  dear,  I  think  I  had  better  be  off  to  the  club. 
Eem ember,  don't  tell  your  mother.  I  am  sorry  to  have 
distressed  you.  And  as  for  Mr.  Strong,  I  don't  think  we 
shall  be  troubled  by  him.  He  said  he  would  do  himself 
the  honor  to  call ;  he  has  not  done  so,  however — " 

"But  he  has  walked  by  the  house  every  morning  for 
the  last  week !" 

Mr.  Eossiter  looked  startled  for  a  moment.  "It  is  on 
his  way  to  the  office,"  he  then  said.  "Good-by,  my 
dear." 


THE  PRINCE  AND  THE  CHARIOT        17 

He  bent  over  and  would  hare  touched  her  brown  hair 
with  his  lips,  but  she  lifted  her  face. 

"Tut !  what's  this  ?"  he  asked  playfully. 

"Would  you  refuse  a  lady's  lips,  sir  ?"  she  laughed. 

As  he  kissed  her,  a  light  in  her  eyes,  half -wistful, 
rested  on  him  for  a  moment.  When  he  turned  she  looked 
after  him,  almost  pityingly. 

"Oh  the  man  that  has  me  must  have  silver  and  gold, 
Must  have  a  chariot  to  ride  in,  must  be  handsome  and  bold; 
His  hair  must  be  curly  as  any  watch-spring, 
And    his    whiskers    as    big    as — a — brush — for — clothing!" 

The  hand-organ  man  was  moving  away  and  the  am- 
bitious lay  of  Polly  Perkins  died  in  the  distance. 

Miss  Rossiter  went  to  the  window.  The  street  was 
now  fairly  awake;  the  precipitate  delivery  wagons 
mingled  with  the  luxurious  landau,  brougham  and  vic- 
toria. Across  the  way  a  maid  scrubbed  the  front  steps 
of  the  Garnett  mansion  with-  a  diligence  as  hearty  as 
that  of  the  inmates'  Dutch  ancestors,  who  chased  out 
dirt  and  the  devil  with  the  mop  and  the  broom.  As 
Elinor  was  about  to  turn  away,  a  figure  approached  that 
arrested  her  attention;  a  flush  overspread  her  face;  she 
started  again  to  draw  back,  but  did  not.  Some  power 
seemed  to  hold  her  there  against  her  will. 
%  What  business  had  he  to  walk  by  every  morning? 
Then  she  noticed  Miss  Garnett,  a  hopeless  spinster,  peer- 


18  BLACK  FKIDAY 

ing  from  one  of  the  broad  windows  opposite.  "Hateful 
thing!"  thought  the  girl.  The  figure  drew  nearer;  he 
was  looking  down;  he  even  seemed  to  walk  more  slowly. 
With  growing  antagonism  the  girl  watched  him.  "How 
strong  he  looks  !"  she  thought.  And  then  triumphantly : 
"He  is  not  so  confident  as  he  seems.  I  am  sure  he  is 
hesitating.  He  wants  to  call  and — he  doesn't  dare !  He 
is  afraid ! — afraid — "  she  repeated —  "of  me !" 

Her  lip  curled;  in  her  eyes  was  an  indefinable  light. 

"How  I  hate  him !"  she  said,  and  at  that  moment  he 
looked  up. 

He  started  perceptibly  when  he  saw  her;  the  glance 
they  exchanged  seemed  of  indefinite  duration.  He 
bowed  formally,  and  then  she  suddenly  smiled.  He 
stopped  outright ;  she  was  gone.  Thoughtfully  he  walked 
on,  but  his  countenance  appeared  transfigured. 


CHAPTER  II 

A  FLURRY  IN  HEARTS 

A  woman,  saith  the  moralist,  has  two  smiles  an 
angel  might  envy — the  smile  that  accepts  a  lover 
before  words  are  uttered,  and  the  smile  that 
lights  on  the  first-born  babe.  Miss  Rossiter's  smile 
might  or  might  not  belong  to  the  former  category, 
but  whether,  in  any  event,  the  heavenly  host  be- 
held it  with  a  jaundiced  eye  remains  a  hypothetical  prop- 
osition. Mr.  Richard  Strong,  being  of  the  earth,  saw  in 
it  something  supernal,  without  pausing  to  analyze 
whether  it  conveyed  a  promise  or  covert  encouragemeat. 
Hd  had  dealt  in  some  valuable  commodities,  but  a 
woman's  smile — her  smile ! — was  an  unknown  quantity, 
and  he  knew  not  by  what  standard  to  gage  it. 

As  he  turned  from  the  house,  continuing  his  walk,  his 
thoughts  traveled  retrospectively,  accumulating,  classi- 
fying after  his  wont,  all  the  scanty  data  of  their  brief  ac- 
quaintance. A  "How-do-you-do?"  at  Mrs.  Fanning's;  a 
clear,  musical  voice  rising  above  the  bibble-babble ; 
brown  eyes,  that  looked  at  him  as  he  liked  to  look  at  peo- 
19 


20  BLACK  FRIDAY 

pie — straight,  deep;  the  impression  of  an  erect,  proud 
figure,  though  light  and  youthful ! 

"Who  are  the  Eossiters?"  he  had  said  to  the  hostess, 
when  the  young  girl  had  turned. 

"The  Eossiters/'  that  lady  had  replied,  "have  a  list  of 
ancestors  as  far  back  as  the  Dutch  pirates  who  scuttled 
the  Spanish  treasure  ships." 

At  Miss  Van  Dolsen's  there  had  been  a  few  more 
words,  conventional,  yet  well-remembered: 

"I  believe  I  met  you  once  before,  Mr.  Strong — at 
Mrs.  Tanning's,  I  think  ?" 

"At  Mrs.  Tanning's,  I  am  sure,  Miss  Eossiter." 

"How  delightful — to  be  always  positive !  You  have 
the  reputation  of  being  a  positive  man.  Perhaps  you 
are  one  of  those  who  believe  men  are  always  sure,  while 
women  only  think,  or  guess." 

"Perhaps  our  first  meeting  impressed  me  more  than 
it  did  you." 

"Perhaps,"— indifferently. 

That  had  been  about  all ;  a  little  more,  but  nothing  of 
moment.  Slender  data  for  Mr.  Eichard  Strong  to  pon- 
der over ;  he  who  was  insatiable  for  details !  Later  Mr. 
Eossiter  had  said:  "It  is  my  daughter's  affair;  not 
mine." 

Mr.  Strong  knew  how  to  deal  with  men,  but  not  with 
women.  For  the  first  time  in  many  years  he  had  been  at 


A  FLURRY  IN  HEARTS  21 

A  loss  what  to  do.  He  might  compel  the  market;  he 
might  compel  competition  to  step  aside;  he  might  com- 
pel trunk  lines  to  sell  out;  but  he  could  not  compel  a 
woman's  inclination.  It  was  too  intangible,  subtle  and 
delicate  a  commodity  for  his  strong  grasp;  he  might 
reach  for  it  for  ever  yet  never  touch  it;  his  hand  would 
close  on  air.  This  had  been  the  burden  of  his  thoughts 
as  he  walked  by  her  house  once  a  day. 

But  suddenly  a  new  factor  had  altered  the  tenor  of  the 
situation.  The  proposition  that  had  of  late  seemed  du- 
bious— so  dubious  he  had  almost  abandoned  all  hope  of 
it — now  seemed  as  golden  as  the  dream  of  Alnaschar. 
From  Miss  Rossiter  at  Mrs.  Fanning's — cold,  proud ! — 
to  Miss  Rossiter  in  the  window,  became  a  space  abruptly 
spanned  by  a  rainbow. 

He  came  to  himself  with  a  start,  finding  that  he  stood 
at  the  head  of  the  street;  the  Lombard  Street  of  the 
rocky  isle  that  bears  on  its  crest  the  affluent  city.  Clang, 
clang,  tolled  the  bells  of  Trinity.  For  the  moment,  the 
first  time  almost  in  his  career,  his  office  was  distasteful 
to  him,  and  he  who  always  turned  to  the  left  into  the 
thoroughfare  that  is  the  golden  artery  of  the  heart  of  the 
western  world,  now  wheeled  to  the  right,  where  beneath 
the  shadow  of  the  spire  slept  those  who  cared  not  for  the 
heavy  or  the  light  purse,  or  the  loaves  and  the  fishes. 

Here,  in  God's-acre,  the  bobolink  and  the  robin  were 


22  BLACK  FEIDAY 

singing  merrily.  Bird-songs  and  the  fragrance  of 
flowers — what  had  they  for  Eichard  Strong  ?  Now,  if  it 
had  been  the  gentle  Halleck ;  he  who  mixed  stocks  with 
poetry,  and  poetry  with  stocks !  But  Eichard  Strong ! 
Yet  he  sat  there;  aye,  sat  and  listened!  And  dreamed, 
perhaps;  dreamed  of  kinsmen  and  kinswomen  gone;  of 
life  and  death ;  the  battle  of  the  strong ;  the  light  of  love, 
a  sun  shining  on  the  field  of  strife !  One  hour  he  re- 
mained in  the  churchyard;  no  more,  no  less,  for  he 
arose  when  from  the  "undaunted  steeple"  came  the  toll- 
ing anew. 

Clang !  clang  I  "Work !  work  I5*  said  the  brazen  bells. 

"Counting  the  dead  men,  Eichard?"  said  a  voice  at 
his  elbow,  as  he  was  leaving  the  burial-ground. 

For  an  instant,  he  felt  disconcerted ;  guiltily  culpable. 
"There  is  no  need  of  looking  for  them  here  in  the  ceme- 
tery, Commodore,"  he  replied,  confronting  his  ques- 
tioner. "Since  you  twisted  the  tail  of  the  legislature, 
they're  all  in  Albany." 

At  this  reference  to  the  famous  Harlem  corner,  the 
other's  eyes  sparkled;  the  ends  of  his  white  choker 
seemed  to  stand  out  more  aggressively  beyond  the  ag- 
gressive whiskers  that  adorned  the  sides  of  his  aggres- 
sive, round,  bluff  face. 

"We  did  disturb  them  a  leetle,  Eichard,"  said   the 


A  FLUEEY  IN  HEARTS  23 

commodore.  "They  broke  their  word  and  needed  a  leetle 
dressing  down." 

But  later  Mr.  Vanderbilt  said  to  his  old  friend,  John 
Tobin,  the  one-time  gate-keeper  at  Staten  Island :  "John, 
I  saw  Richard  Strong  in  the  graveyard.  What  do  you 
suppose  he  was  there  thinking  about  ?" 

"Dunno,"  answered  Tobin.  "Got  a  right  to  be  there, 
I  guess." 

"He  didn't  look,  John,  as  if  he  was  trying  to  get  a 
corner  on  tombstones.  Something's  up !" 

"Then  we're  likely  to  hear  of  it,"  answered  Tobin, 
philosophically. 

Along  the  street  where  Captain  Kidd  and  Benedict 
Arnold  once  had  lived,  where  George  Washington  had 
taken  the  oath  of  office  and  the  Stamp  Act  Congress  had 
assembled,  Richard  Strong  walked  with  quick,  firm  step, 
threading  a  procession  of  people  which  at  this  hour 
thronged  the  sidewalk.  Clerks,  alert,  and  clerks,  heavy- 
eyed — from  the  concert-saloons  the  night  before — 
mingled  with  the  broker,  brisk  as  a  bee,  and  the  old  spec- 
ulator, hobbling  on  his  cane.  The  professional  distribu- 
tors of  "tips,"  the  waifs  and  estrays  from  the  bubbling 
pot  of  finance,  rubbed  elbows  with  Plutus  and  Midas; 
wealth  walked  before,  or  behind,  poverty;  and  see !  amid 
all,  strode  Wisdom  and  Learning,  the  benign,  the  com- 
plaisant Greeley !  Scamps  and  runagates ;  saints  and  sin- 


24  BLACK  FRIDAY 

ners ;  good  men  and  bad  men — all  merging  in  a  common 
channel,  like  a  shoal  of  minnows  scurrying  toward  a 
feeding-ground ! 

But  a  short  distance  and  Eichard  Strong  reached  an 
unpretentious  building,  his  place  of  business.  Here 
modest  offices,  nearly  opposite  the  Treasury's  marble 
front,  looked  down  on  the  busiest  spot  of  all  that  busy 
neighborhood  "where  Jews  and  Gentiles  most  were  wont 
to  throng  for  trade  and  latest  speculation."  Entering 
his  own  private  office,  Eichard  Strong  plunged  at  once 
into  his  work.  Upon  a  table  a  mass  of  documents  and 
maps  were  arranged  with  some  semblance  of  order,  and 
over  these  he  bent,  glancing  rapidly  through  the  former 
and  keenly  at  the  latter,  finally  leaning  back  with  de- 
cision in  his  chair  and  touching  a  bell. 

A  tall,  thin  man,  with  a  hooked  nose,  Eoman  but  not 
Hebraic,  straggling  white  hair  and  the  unruffled  smile 
of  a  child,  responded,  standing  hesitatingly  on  the 
threshold  and  entering  not  without  deference. 

"Good  morning,  Tim  Taplin.  Sit  down,  sir,"  com- 
manded Eichard  Strong.  "There  is  a  good  deal  to  be 
done  and  we'd  better  get  at  it." 

"Yes,  sir ;  certainly,  sir !"  said  Tim. 

"Have  you  the  papers  of  the  D.  B.  and  C.  line  ?  Ah, 
here  they  are !  Make  a  note  that  between  A  and  B,  on 
Diagram  4,  the  road  will  have  to  be  reballasted.  Also, 


A  FLUKEY  IN  HEARTS  25 

at  certain  points  indicated,  steel  bridges  must  replace  the 
wooden  ones;  the  line  to  be  extended  to — " 

And  so  on  indefinitely,  spinning  a  web  with  those  fine 
tracings  on  the  map;  the  sustaining  strands,  the  main 
lines;  the  branches,  mere  feeders  strengthening  the 
meshes !  A  filament  requiring  much  patience  to  put  to- 
gether, that  it  might  not  ultimately  glitter  with  dew- 
drops  instead  of  dividends !  The  life  of  a  weaver  may 
be  short,  as  the  Holy  Book  says,  but  it  is,  also,  absorb- 
ing, and,  engaged  in  this  subtle  and  delicate  task — to 
which  in  the  beginning  that  day  he  had,  perhaps,  forced 
himself — Richard  Strong  noted  not  how  the  hours 
slipped  by. 

Tim  wrote  and  listened;  departed  on  errands  and 
came  back  again;  yawned  and  looked  at  the  picture  on 
the  wall  of  that  big  man,  Jacob  Little,  who  had  made  and 
lost  nine  fortunes ;  yawned  again  and  thought  of  Hack- 
ett  as  Falstaff,  and  whether  he  and  his  sister  would  go 
to  Niblo's  Garden,  or — for  the  lark  of  it! — take  in  the 
mermaid,  the  stuffed  elephant,  the  fat  woman  and  the 
Albinos  at  Barnum's,  and— 

"Tim  Taplin,  you're  wool-gathering  I" 

Richard  Strong  was  regarding  him  quizzically  but  not 
unkindly.  Tim  recovered  himself  with  an  effort.  The 
shadows  were  falling  without;  his  employer  was  a  hard 
taskmaster. 


26  BLACK  FRIDAY 

"Yes,  sir;  I'm  afraid  I  was,  sir/'  answered  the  clerk. 

"That  will  do.    You  may  go." 

He  spoke  less  bruskly  than  usual,  and,  when  Tim 
had  departed,  fell  into  a  reverie  himself.  The  strident 
tones  of  a  newsboy  without,  crying  some  new  iniquity  of 
the  Tweed  Ring  and  the  immoral,  if  not  immortal, 
"What-are-you-going-to-do-about-it?"  Boss,  aroused  him. 

"Richard  Strong,  you're  wool-gathering !"  he  said 
half-aloud,  and  arose. 

At  eight  o'clock,  he  stood  resolutely,  if  not  altogether 
confidently,  at  the  door  of  the  Rossiter  mansion.  He 
wondered  if  Miss  Rossiter  had  gone  out;  he  half -wished 
that  she  had;  his  card  would  the  better  pave  the  way  for 
the  future  than —  jHK 

No ;  the  ladies  were  at  home,  said  the  waspish-looking 
maid  (salary-in-arrears  written  on  her  face!).  Would 
he  wait  in  the  reception-room?  The  visitor  complied. 
Mechanically  he  turned  over  the  day's  events  in  his  mind 
and  strove  to  approach  the  business  in  hand  with  a  lucid 
understanding  of  what  was  required  of  him.  But  some- 
how his  usual  clearness  of  perception  failed  him ;  he  was 
conscious  of  waiting  and  expecting  some  one,  but  not 
planning  what  he  should  say  when  he  saw  her. 

A  rustling  gown ;  a  large,  not  a  slender,  figure  crossed 
the  threshold,  and  Mrs.  Rossiter,  with  bare  arms  and  bare 


A  FLUKEY  IX  HEAKTS  57, 

shoulders,  her  hair  a  little  higher,  her  gown  a  little  lower, 
approached  with  outstretched  hand  and  obvious  cordial- 
ity. 

"Mr.  Strong,  how  delightful !  I  have  not  seen  you 
since — since  we  met  at  Miss  Van  Dolsen's.  My  daughter 
will  be  down  presently.  We  were  speaking  of  you  only 
the  other  day" — a  conventional  fib — "and  Mr.  Eossiter 
was  telling  me  that — " 

"I  asked  him  for  Miss  Eossiter's  hand,"  blurted  out 
Richard  Strong. 

Mrs.  Eossiter's  face  would  have  made  the  fortune  of 
a  painter,  could  he  have  succeeded  in  depicting  on  can- 
vas the  amazement,  incredulity,  joy,  chagrin,  struggling 
for  mastery  on  her  features. 

"Asked  for  her  hand !"  she  repeated.  "For  Elinor's—" 
she  almost  gasped. 

"I  should  have  waited — I  know — " 

"When  did  you  speak  to  Mr.  Eossiter?"  Mrs.  Rossi- 
ter strove  to  regain  her  composure;  her  snapping  eyes 
boded  no  good  for  her  better  half. 

"Some  time  ago." 

The  lady's  lips  were  firmly  compressed.  She  endeav- 
ored to  smile  and  partly  succeeded.  Not  entirely  a  nat- 
ural smile,  but  rather  of  the  frozen  variety,  as  if  behind 


28  BLACK  FRIDAY 

it  lay  a  tragic  mask;  a  transformation  waiting  for  Mr. 
liossiter ! 

"And  what— did  he  say?" 

"That  it  was  Miss  Rossiter's  affair,  Madam." 

His  hearer's  bosom  rose  and  fell  violently;  her  fan 
fluttered ;  she  dared  not  trust  herself  to  speak — just  yet. 
Mr.  Strong,  with  his  millions — rejected ! — at  least,  cold- 
ly received  ! — and  the  wolf  at  the  door,  and  the  creditors, 
too — herself  put  to  the  utmost  shift — out  of  pocket,  if 
not  out  at  elbows !  Richard  Strong,  for  whom  many  a 
net  had  been  cast  by  ambitious  matrons,  yet  who  had 
heretofore  escaped  through  the  meshes,  between  the 
buoys  or  beneath  the  sinkers  !  But  finally  with  an  effort 
Mrs.  Rossiter  controlled  the  raging  tempest  of  her  mind  ; 
the  heaving  ceased,  or  became  more  calm  and  tranquil. 

"Of  course,  Mr.  Strong,"  she  said,  "Mr.  Rossiter 'was 
right." 

What  language  could  tell  how  much  the  sentence  cost 
her! 

"We  could  not  think — "  she  went  on.  "A  young  girl 
should  be  free  to  bestow  her  hand  with  her  heart. 
Though,  to  be  sure,  young  people  are  young  people  and 
a  little  guidance — "  Her  voice  faded  into  vagueness. 
"A  mother's  solicitude  is  naturally  very  great,  Mr. 
Strong,"  she  ended  helplessly. 


A  FLUKEY  IX  HEARTS  29 

The  listener  remained  silent.  Mrs.  Bossiter  gradually 
recovered  her  equanimity. 

"Won't  you  be  seated,  Mr.  Strong?"  she  said  solici- 
tously. 

"Thank  you,  Madam,"  he  answered,  and  followed  her 
example. 

"We  are,  Mr.  Strong,  one  might  say — " 

"Comparative  strangers  ?" 

"Hardly  that;  no,  I  would  not  say  that.  Of  course, 
one  hears  all  about  people  and  almost  feels  as  if  one 
knows  them.  You  probably  know  us.  The  Rossitera 
are  a  well-known — if  you  will  pardon  the  expression — • 
a  well-known  family.  General  Rossiter,  as  you  are  un- 
doubtedly aware,  was  on  Washington's  staff.  On  my 
side,  there  is  my  great-great-grandfather,  one  of  the  pa- 
troons  who,  when  he  came  to  New  York  in  his  coach  and 
six  and  liveried  servants,  created  such  a  sensation  that 
the  people  lined  the  very  walk  to  see  him  pass  I" 

"There,  Madam,  you  have  the  advantage  of  me,"  said 
Richard  Strong,  bluntly.  "I  don't  know  where  my  an- 
cestors were  during  the  Revolution,  but  I  am  sure  none 
of  them  ever  rode  in  a  coach  and  six  down  Broadway." 

"Ah,  well,"  answered  Mrs.  Rossiter,  graciously,  "some 
of  us  have  ancestors ;  and  some  of  us  have — "  "money" 
she  was  about  to  say,  but  didn't — "and  some  of  ua 


30  BLACK  FRIDAY. 

haven't !    Not  that  it  matters — or  it  shouldn't — in  this 
free  and  democratic  country,  or  republic,  should  it?" 

Although  Mrs.  Rossiter's  style  in  conversation  was  apt 
to  become  somewhat  involved,  her  meaning  was  generally 
plain. 

"My  father,  Madam,  was  a  western  cattle  drover," 
continued  Mr.  Strong.  A  flutter  of  Mrs.  Rossiter's  fan. 
"My  mother  kept  a  boarding-house  in  a  mining  town." 
More  violent  agitation !  "From  her" — with  a  laugh — "I 
must  have  inherited  what  little  executive  ability  I  pos- 
sess. It  was  said — and  one  or  two  of  her  boarders  are 
to-day  prominent  figures  from  the  western  world  in  Wall 
Street — she  could  carve  a  poor  bird  with  such  nice  discre- 
tion for  a  company  of  twenty  that  every  man  always  got 
up  satisfied.  Sometimes,  to  me" — clasping  his  hands 
over  his  knee — "a  lean  railroad  suggests  the  boarding- 
house  turkey — it  takes  a  deal  of  skilful  carving  to  satisfy 
the  ravenous  appetites  of  the  stock-holders  !" 

"Dear  me !"  said  Mrs.  Rossiter,  feebly.  "Of  course," 
she  added,  with  a  faint  sigh,  "a  boarding-house  out  West 
is  not  exactly  the  same  thing  as  a  boarding-house  in  New 
York  City." 

"Worse,  Madam !" 

Mrs.  Rossiter  straightened  rather  haughtily,  but  im- 
mediately relaxed. 


I 


A  FLURRY  IX  HEARTS  31 

"Out  there,  the  boarders  wear  revolvers  in  the  dining- 
room,  and  carry  their  bowie-knives  into  the  parlor !" 

The  hostess  laughed ;  she  felt  in  duty  bound  to  do  so ; 
but  it  was  not  a  hearty  laugh;  it  rang  artificially. 
Richard  Strong  regarded  her  keenly,  when  suddenly  his 
thoughts  shifted  from  boarding-houses  and  decrepit  rail- 
roads and  Mrs.  Rossiter's  ancestors  to  a  tall  and  grace- 
ful form  that  seemed  to  appear  by  magic,  and  now  stoocL 
before  him,  clad  in  white,  her  head  very  proudly  raised, 
but  her  face  paler  than  it  had  impressed  him  at  Mrs-. 
Tanning's.  If  Richard  Strong  was  not  Miss  Rossiter'r 
prince  of  the  fairy  tale,  she  certainly  seemed  to  his  eyes 
more  beautiful  than  all  the  gracious  beings  of  child- 
hood's lore,  and,  when  she  gave  him  her  hand,  he  bent 
over  it  silently,  having  no  words ;  like  a  courtier,  voice- 
less before  his  queen.  A  great  joy  leaped  in  his  heart ; 
he  looked  into  her  eyes ;  to  him  they  were  full  of  wonder- 
ful lights.  The  vanities  of  the  world  fell  magically  from 
his  shoulders;  they  two  seemed  alone;  dwellers  of  a  new 
earth;  a  garden,  variously  called  Eden,  the  Elysian 
Fields,  the  Bowers  of  Bliss  ! 

Perhaps  Mrs.  Rossiter  felt  that  she  was  intruding  in 
that  Hesperidian  atmosphere,  for,  murmuring  something 
about  "dear  Edwin,"  she  managed  to  effect  a  not  too 
pointed  exit,  effacing  herself  from  the  presence  of 
Richard  Strong  in  a  most  quiet  and  unobtrusive  manner 


82  BLACK  FRIDAY 

for  a  person  of  such  weight  and  importance.  Not  that 
she  did  not  listen — after  a  memorable  interview  with 
Mr.  Eossiter  which  that  gentleman  never  forgot — at 
the  hea'd  of  the  balustrade,  but  was  little  rewarded  for 
her  pains.  Mr.  Strong  was  not  so  self-assertive  as  he  had 
been  earlier  in  the  evening;  at  least,  he  seemed  to  have 
less  to  say,  and  that  in  a  tone  that  did  not  carry  to  the 
spot  where  Mrs.  Rossiter,  red  from  bending  over,  was 
peering  downward. 

"Well,  my  dear,  what  did  you  find  to  talk  about  ?"  said 
Mrs.  Rossiter,  when  it  was  all  over,  and  Mr.  Strong's 
footsteps  could  be  heard  echoing  down  the  front  steps. 

"Not  very  much,  mama !"  was  the  light  reply. 

"And  did  he  not  even  say — when  he  would  call 
Bgain?"  asked  the  elder  lady,  in  what  might  almost  be 
designated  a  playful  tone. 

"He  has  asked  us  to  go  to  La  Juive  Monday  night.''" 

"La  Juive !  my  dear !  One  of  my  favorite  operas ! 
Such  soulful  music !  And  Mr.  Strong's  box  is  one  of 
the  most  prominent  in  the  theater — although  they  say 
he's  seldom  there,  himself.  Good  night,  my  dear;  good 
night!  How  beautiful  you  are  looking  to-night !"  And 
Mrs.  Rossiter's  pent-up  affection  expended  itself  in  a 
parting  caress. 


CHAPTER  III 

DEVELOPMENTS 

The  world  stared  to  see  Miss  Roesiter  and  Mr, 
Strong  together  at  the  opera ;  it  also  had  a  pre- 
text to  stare  on  sundry  other  occasions — at  the 
Ole  Bull  concerts,  the  Robertson  plays,  the  artists'  ex- 
hibition. Of  course,  every  one  knew  Mr.  Strong,  but 
heretofore,  society  had  seen  little  of  him;  not  that  he 
appeared  to  care  for  it  now — save  for  one  member  of  it. 
The  latter  fact  was  patent  to  all,  and  furnished  the  basis 
for  much  talk  over  tea-cups.  Mrs.  Rossiter  was  given  due 
credit;  truly  she  had  the  managerial  eye, — and  her 
daughter  scarcely  "out" ! 

If  Elinor  realized  what  people  were  saying  and  how 
she  was  the  central  figure  of  neighborly  tittle-tattle,  her 
manner  did  not  betray  such  consciousness.  With  Mr. 
Strong  she  carried  herself  much  as  with  other  people, 
only  perhaps  in  his  case  her  girlish  imperiousness  was 
slightly  emphasized.  The  self-consciousness  she  had  felt 
on  the  occasion  of  his  first  visit  had  quickly  vanished. 
He  had  not  appeared  the  aggressive,  dominating  charac- 
33 


34  BLACK  FKIDAY 

ter  her  preconceived  notion  had  pictured  him,  and  his 
obvious  constraint  put  her  entirely  at  her  ease.  It  may  be 
the  very  knowledge  of  her  power  over  him  brought  with 
it  an  unconscious  satisfaction  which  called  for  the  exer- 
cise rather  than  the  disuse  of  those  weapons  belonging  to 
her  sex.  Here  was  some  one  whom  the  world  counted  a 
leader,  a  man  of  iron,  yet  he  was  to  be  swayed  by  a  word, 
a  gesture.  In  her  presence  he  was  sometimes  embar- 
rassed, almost  awkward,  and  then  she  would  study  him 
with  the  superior  smile  of  girlhood.  She  d'id  not  realize 
the  difference  in  their  ages — that  the  balance  of  years  lay 
to  his  credit — for  on  the  occasions  when  they  were  alone 
his  reserved  diffidence  made  him  almost  boyish. 

She  even,  perhaps,  found  pleasure  in  testing  her  in- 
fluence, and  at  least  once,  with  the  result  that  her  con- 
fidence in  herself  was  slightly  shaken.  He  had  asked 
them  all  to  occupy  his  box  for  a  certain  opera,  where- 
upon Elinor  suggested  another  night  when  a  different 
and,  to  her,  more  pleasing  work  was  to  be  given. 

"I  am  sorry,"  he  said,  "but  on  that  evening  I  can  not 
join  you.  I  have  a  business  engagement." 

The  girl  looked  somewhat  surprised;  it  was  the  first 
time  he  had  not  been  swayed  to  her  will. 

"And  would  you  rather  talk  business  than  listen  to 
music?"  she  said. 


DEVELOPMENTS  35 

"I  have  to,"  he  answered  simply.  "At  least,  on  this 
occasion." 

She  lifted  her  brows. 

"How  disagreeable !"  she  said.  "To  have  to  do 
things !" 

Her  manner  that  night  puzzled  him,  for  he  was  not 
cognizant  he  had  given  her  cause  for  offense.  When  he 
called  a  few  evenings  later,  she  kept  him  waiting  no  in- 
considerable period,  and  when  she  did  come  down,  her 
eyes  expressed  just  a  trace  of  malice. 

"Thank  you  for  the  flowers,"  she  said,  giving  him  the 
tips  of  her  fingers. 

"Did  you  like  them?"  he  asked  dubiously,  noting  at 
the  same  time  that  she  wore  none  of  them. 

"Oh,  yes,"  she  answered  pointedly;  "I  was  over- 
whelmed by  them." 

Mr.  Strong  flushed.  "Send  up  all  the  red  roses  you 
have  in  that  case,"  he  had  said  to  the  florist.  At  her 
words  and  accent,  he  wondered  for  the  first 
time  if  the  mere  lavishness  of  his  gift  had  not  savored 
of  ostentation.  He  was  a  most  unostentatious  man  in 
his  own  tastes  and  requirements,  and  he  vaguely  regret- 
ted that  he  had1  not  looked  to  see  how  many  flowers  there 
really  had  been  in  the  case.  At  the  same  time  he  ar- 
gued from  cause  to  effect — the  fact  she  had  not  a  single 


36  BLACK  FEIDAY 

flower  in  her  dress  augured  she  was  not  pleased,  but  he 
did  not  blame  her ;  he  himself  was  the  delinquent. 

The  next  time,  however,  he  sent  her  only  a  single  rose, 
the  selection  of  which  caused  him  considerable  trouble 
and  solicitude.  In  fact,  he  was  so  long  in  casting  about 
for  what  he  wanted,  that  when  he  reached  his  office  he 
surprised  himself  by  being  ten  minutes  late  at  a  di- 
rectors' meeting.  The  six  grave  faces  that  confronted 
his  from  the  long  table  seemed  like  a  reproof,  and,  as 
Eichard  Strong  called  the  meeting  to  order,  he  de- 
spatched matters  with  a  vigor  that  atoned  for  that  half- 
hour's  dalliance  in  the  primrose  path. 

That  night  he  felt  even  less  confident  than  usual  when 
he  went  to  the  Eossiter  house.  Women,  he  told  himself, 
were  like  flowers;  he  knew  as  little  of  the  one  as  of  the 
other.  But  when  he  entered  the  room  and  she  came  in 
with  his  rose  on  her  dress,  the  scales  seemed  to  fall  from 
his  eyes.  His  face  changed:  she  did  care  for  him — a 
little — perhaps 

His  cause  for  self-congratulation,  however,  was  as 
ephemeral  as  it  was  sudden.  She  was  more  capricious 
than  ever,  leading  the  conversation  to  the  most  frivolous 
depths,  until  a  gradual  change  settled  on  his  spirits  and 
a  conventional  distance  once  more  separated  them.  Then 
she  was  satisfied,  for  she  could  not  quite  forget  the  ex- 
pression with  which  he  had  first  regarded  her. 


DEVELOPMENTS  3? 

During  all  this  time  he  had  not  spoken  to  her  of  that 
other  vital  matter,  though  once  or  twice  he  had  appar- 
ently started  to  approach  it,  but  with  a  quick  divination 
she  had  somehow  managed  to  elude  the  subject.  Soon, 
however,  she  was  to  learn  that  her  position  was  not  so 
impregnable  as  at  first  it  had  seemed.  One  night  he  was 
unduly  thoughtful,  she  lighter,  more  animated;  but  her 
gaiety  failed  of  its  usual  effect.  When  he  did  speak  he 
said: 

"Miss  Eossiter,  I  don't  know  whether  your  father  ever 
spoke  to  you  about  a  conversation  I  once  had  with  him." 

Elinor's  color  swiftly  changed;  she  endeavored  to  in- 
terject some  remark  not  germane  to  the  subject,  but 
this  time  he  persevered,  stubbornly,  firmly,  and'  instinc- 
tively she  felt  she  could  not  stop  him.  His  eyes  were 
dark,  deep,  glowing;  they  dismayed  her,  yet  she  could 
hardly  look  away  from  them.  Quickly  she  arose.  His 
face  grew  paler. 

"I  told  him  that  I  wanted  you  to  be — my  wife." 

The  girl's  hand  trembled;  she  stood  half-turned  from, 
him.  He  too,  arose,  his  features  strong,  powerful. 

"There  isn't  much  to  say/'  he  went  on.  "When  one 
has  said  that,  it  seems  to  be  all." 

For  the  moment  the  resources  of  the  past  seemed  to 
desert  her. 

"Won't  you  look  at  me  ?"  he  said. 


38  BLACK  FRIDAY 

She  raised  her  eyes,  almost  defiantly;  her  face  was 
sober  enough  now. 

"Could  you — care  for  me  enough  for  that  ?" 

She  strove  to  tell  him  what  was  in  her  mind;  that 
she  could  not,  never  could  marry  him,  but  at  that  mo- 
ment a  strange  thing  happened  to  her.  She  asked  her- 
self if  it  was  really  true  she  didn't  care  for  him  at  all. 
For  an  instant  he  waited ;  a  wave  of  force  seemed  draw- 
ing her  against  her  will.  Steadfastly  she  resisted  it. 
Of  course,  she  did  not  care. 

"Good  night,"  he  said. 

She  gave  him  her  hand  almost  mechanically.  Her 
eyes  could  not  meet  his  now. 

"Good  night,"  he  repeated,  holding  her  hand.  He 
dropped  it.  For  a  moment  there  was  silence.  "May  I 
call  again  ?" 

Did  she  speak?  Did  she  bow  her  head  in  assent? 
She  knew  that  if  he  went  with  no  sign  from  her,  she 
would  never  see  him  again.  She  remembered  after- 
ward the  look  of  joy  in  his  eyes  as  he  left.  What 
did  it  mean?  She  pressed  her  hands  to  her  head.  "He 
made  me,"  she  thought,  and  her  cheeks  burned.  Then 
into  her  eyes  came  a  flash. 

"He  may  call,"  she  said,  "but  he  will  find  me  firm — 
firm!" 


DEVELOPMENTS  39 

In  thus  determining  upon  her  future  course  and 
seeking  to  intrench  herself  in  a  stronger  citadel  than 
before,  Elinor  learned,  however,  that  it  is  easier  to  give 
an  advantage  than  to  regain  it.  The  next  bit  of  gossip 
the  World  heard — and  the  World  had  been  expecting 
it,  and,  therefore,  evinced  no  surprise — was  the  an- 
nouncement of  the  engagement  of  Miss  Kossiter,  daugh- 
ter of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Edwin  Kossiter,  to  Mr.  Eicharu 
Strong. 

"Made  the  most  of  her  opportunity!"  said  Society. 

"I  am  very  glad,  my  dear,  for  your  sake,"  had 
been  Mrs.  Eossiter's  comment. 

Mr.  Eossiter  only  kissed  her. 

At  this  period  Elinor,  be  it  confessed,  occasional^ 
looked  a  little  troubled,  yet  not  unhappy,  as  a  per- 
son might  appear  who  was  asking  herself  questions — 
sometimes  finding  the  answers  to  her  liking;  again, 
of  a  character  to  cause  inward  study.  But  every  girl, 
no  doubt,  thus  communes  with  herself  during  this, 
the  momentous  epoch,  and  she  discovered  no  reason, 
perhaps,  to  think  she  was  undergoing  experiences  un- 
usual or  so  much  out  of  the  ordinary. 

"The  serious  duties  of  life ! — The  responsibilities  you 
assume,  young  ladies,  when  you  enter  upon  the  broad- 
er field  of  woman's  destiny "  The  echoes  of  that 

last  address  at  boarding-school  seemed  fitted  to  her  case; 


40  BLACK  FFJDAY 

she  could  smile  at  it  now,  as  then,  but  those  tremen- 
dous, inevitable  obligations,  whatever  they  were,  had 
come  to  nest,  or  rest,  on  her  untried  young  shoulders. 
She  could  endeavor  to  shake  them  off,  but  they  only 
came  back  to  her.  So  she  sighed,  laughed,  and  let 
them  be.  Certainly  Mr.  Strong  appeared  the  imperson- 
ation of  what  the  essayist  would  have  called  "her  des- 
tiny." 

She  still  treated  him  as  at  first — although  fore- 
warned that  her  power  was  at  times  subject  to  his  will — 
and  he  bent  his  head  to  that  pleasant  yoke,  finding 
her  caprices  as  charming  as  bewildering.  But  very 
shortly  after  the  public  proclamation,  Mr.  Strong  sud- 
denly announced  to  her  his  intention  of  going  away 
to  England,  on  an  imperative  matter,  to  be  gone  two 
months,  possibly  longer. 

"Two  months !"  she  said,  studying  him  with  clear 
eyes.  Could  he  leave  her  so  long — now? 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  and  added  in  his  direct  fashion : 
"It  is  necessary."  As  if  that  disposed  of  every  phase  of 
the  situation! 

"When  do  you  go?" 

"To-morrow." 

She  opened  her  eyes  wider;  for  a  moment  there  was 
silence. 


DEVELOPMENTS  41 

"Why  are  you  going?"  she  then  asked  in  a  serious 
tone. 

"The  success,  of  a  railway  system  I  am  inaugurating 
depends  upon  the  conversion  of  certain  bonds  and  the 
cooperation  of  the  English  holders  of  various  interests." 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  understand,"  she  observed,  holding 
herself  more  erect. 

"You  see,"  he  went  on,  "conservative  England  has 
taken  a  great  interest  in  my  plans.  And  it  is  to  Eng- 
land we  turn  for  much  of  the  backbone  of  our  railroad 
enterprises." 

"Oh !"  she  said,  looking  at  him  from  a  cold  distance. 
And  then  in  a  more  lively  tone :  "How  nice  it  must 
be  to  have  so  much  business !  I  suppose  you  think  of  it 
all  the  time  !  Of  course  you  must  go.  I  wonder  if  you 
will  succeed  in — what  was  it? — converting  certain 
bonds?  That  means  making  some  more  money,  doesn't 
it  ?  But  you  always  succeed,  don't  you  ?" 

"Not  always,"  he  said,  smiling.  "But  then,  you 
know,  success  is  often  built  on  failure." 

"Most  of  the  people  I  like  best  in  the  world,  in  the 
category  of  your  Street,  would  be  considered  failures," 
she  observed  lightly. 

He  looked  at  her,  but  did  not  answer. 

"Some  of  them  are  so  delightfully  irresponsible !" 
she  continued. 


42  BLACK  FRIDAY 

"Yes?"  he  assented,  rather  puzzled. 

Capriciously  she  stood  before  where  he  was  seated. 

"Indeed,  they  awaken  a  fellow-feeling!" 

"Why?"  he  asked,  thinking  more  of  her  than  of  her 
words. 

"Didn't  you  know  that  / — am  irresponsible?" 

He  looked  at  the  mocking  lips,  the  kindling  eyes, 
the  graceful,  proud  figure. 

"I  know — you  are  beautiful !"  he  said,  leaning  for- 
ward, with  his  heart  in  his  eyes. 

It  was  the  first  outburst  of  flattery  she  had  ever  heard 
from  him ;  it  sent  the  hot  blood  to  her  cheeks ;  drowned 
the  half-defiance  in  her  eyes.  At  the  same  time,  coupled 
with  what  had  gone  before,  it  angered  her,  and  this  feel- 
ing became  paramount.  But  almost  immediately  he 
looked  down ;  his  face  became  grave ;  his  brows  concealed 
something  wistful  in  his  gaze. 

"I'll  try  to  expedite  the  matter  as  much  as  possible," 
he  said. 

Her  lips  pressed  firmly  together,  and  the  conversation 
lagged  on  other  matters. 

When  he  arose  to  go  he  looked  at  her  longingly  a  mo- 
ment; then  taking  both  her  hands  in  a  close  grasp,  he 
strove  to  speak  to  her  of  what  was  most  on  his  mind. 

"Of  course  it  is  too  bad,  but  of  course,  too,  you  must 
go,1'  she  had  answered  with  shining  eyes  and  a  frosty 


DEVELOPMENTS  43 

little  smile.  He  did  not  seek  to  analyze  the  reason,  but 
never  before  had  he  found  it  so  difficult  to  express  him- 
self;  and,  at  a  loss,  he  drew  her  into  his  arms.  After- 
ward', as  he  turned  from  the  house,  he  had  but  the  re- 
membrance of  a  parting  that  seemed  inadequate  and 
disappointing. 

When  he  had  gone  Elinor  stood  for  a  moment  in  an 
inflexible  attitude ;  then  stole  to  the  window  in  the  dark- 
ened sitting-room  and  looked  out.  Eetracing  her  steps 
to  the  hall,  a  snatch  of  a  song  came  from  her  lips,  but 
the  musical  impulse  soon  expended  itself  and  silently  she 
began  to  rearrange  the  waltzes,  opera  scores  and  ballads 
with  which  the  top  of  the  piano  was  littered.  As  she 
went  up  the  stairs,  a  sudden  blankness  or  sense  of  loss 
seemed  to  deaden  her  spirits. 

Thereafter,  however,  any  feeling  she  may  have  enter- 
tained toward  him — or  business — did  not  interfere  with 
her  pleasures.  Possibly,  even,  she  exerted  herself  to  un- 
usual gaieties.  The  season,  with  Parepa  Eosa  operas, 
the  concerts  at  Steinway  Hall,  assemblies  in  the  salon 
~bleu  of  the  famous  caterers',  and  dances  at  the  Four-in- 
Hand  club-house,  did  not  lack  festivities,  and  in  a  whirl 
of  multitudinous  diversions,  she  obeyed  the  Chesterfield- 
ian  adage  and  snatched  the  passing  flowers  of  joy  with 
the  best  grace  imaginable. 

It  may  be  she  sometimes  thought  of  ending  a  situa- 


44  BLACK  FRIDAY 

tion  fraught  with  perplexities,  but  the  World  had  heard 
and  accepted  the  announcement,  and  she  shrank  from 
the  publicity  that  would  follow  the  severing  of  the  tie. 
Also,  she  had  passed  her  word,  and  to  a  girl  of  her  pride, 
that  meant  a  great  deal.  Other  reasons  which  she 
might  not  fully  acknowledge,  yet  which  existed,  were  in 
all  likelihood  delicate  threads  further  shaping  the  fabric 
of  her  fate.  Certainly  she  did  not  appear  to  regret  his 
absence,  but  accepted  other  attention  freely.  Society 
even  went  so  far  as  to  comment  thereon,  but  Mr.  Eos- 
siter,  who  knew  Elinor  well,  saw  nothing  anomalous  in 
her  bearing. 

"Did  you — convert  the  bonds?"  were  almost  her  first 
words  to  Mr.  Strong  upon  that  gentleman's  return. 

"Yes;  everything's  all  right,"  he  answered.  "I'm 
sorry  I  was  delayed  a  little  longer  than  I  thought  I 
should  be.  I — hope  you  didn't  mind?" 

"I  ?"  she  laughed,  but  her  voice  sounded  rather  hard. 
"I've  had  a  perfectly  lovely  winter !" 


CHAPTER  IV 
A  LITTLE  SMILE;  A  BIG  WEDDING 

Happy  the  bride  the  sun  shines  on !  Miss  Ros- 
siter's  felicity,  measured  by  the  standard  of  the 
familiar  saw,  should  have  been  unequivocal,  for 
on  that  day  of  days  the  sunlight  lay  in  shimmering  lus- 
ter on  the  city. 

The  marriage  was  to  be  celebrated  in  Mrs.  Rossiter's 
church,  a  fashionable  place  of  meeting,  or  exclusive  ec- 
clesiastical club,  where  the  Word  and  the  World  lay 
down  together  like  the  lion  and  the  lamb  in  the  millen- 
nium; where  soft  lights  and  short  sermons  tranquil- 
ized  the  congregation  and  assuaging  oil  was  poured'  on 
the  troubled  conscience.  Once  it  is  indeed  chronicled 
the  rector  had  awakened  and  roared  as  gently  as  any 
sucking  dove,  but  the  sermon  occasioned  so  much  dis- 
approval that  he  immediately  relaxed  to  moderation, 
and  the  poppy  and  mandragora  again  prevailed  in  the 
sacred  place. 

Richard  Strong  was  not,  in  the  strict  sense  of  the 
word,  a  church-goer,  but  he  had  been  prone  often  to  re- 
45 


46  BLACK  FRIDAY 

pair  to  the  great  white  chapel  on  Brooklyn  Heights, 
to  listen  to  Mr.  Beecher,  and  to  become  a  part  of  that 
vast,  democratic  congregation  wont  to  feed,  not  on  dis- 
courses mild  as  mother's  milk,  but  on  a  more  invigorat- 
ing, strength-giving,  moral  diet. 

Thus  it  came  about  that  because  of  his  friendship  and 
admiration  for  Mr.  Beecher  and  in  his  ignorance  of 
hymeneal  etiquette,  Mr.  Strong  had  the  temerity 
to  suggest  that  it  would  be  a  fine  thing  to  have 
the  ceremony  performed  by  that  minister.  Mrs.  Ros- 
siter's  face  was  a  study.  Her  daughter  married  in  that 
common  auditorium,  where  the  people  surged  and  strug- 
gled and  even  climbed  on  to  the  window-sills;  where 
the  children  sat  on  the  very  steps  of  the  pulpit  while  the 
minister  was  preaching !  Mr.  Beecher  was  a  great  man, 
no  doubt — his  salary  was  evidence  of  that,  but  the  Ros- 
siters  had  never  taken  kindly  to  revivals  or  evangelists — • 
"theology  T}ouffe,"  or  "religion  bouffe" — they  accepted 
the  apostles,  of  course,  but  they  had  lived  so  long  ago 
the  Rossiters  had  never  been  brought  into  personal  con- 
tact with  them ! 

''Of  course,"  she  said,  "the  ceremony  could  only  take 
place  in  the  bride's  church." 

Mr.  Strong  laughed  and  quickly  abandoned  the  point. 
Temple,  tabernacle,  or  ecclesiastical  club,  it  was  really 
all  one  to  him,  the  result  would  be  the  same,  and  he 


A  LITTLE  SMILE;  A  BIG  WEDDING        47 

was  a  man  who  sought  results  without  quarreling  need- 
lessly with  ways  and  means. 

For  many  years  the  Rossiter  mansion  had  not  assumed 
so  festal  an  aspect  as  on  that  particular  wedding-day, 
and  all  the  street  was  up  in  arms — or  rather,  up  in 
eyes — to  do  honor  to  the  occasion.  Windows  com- 
manding a  view  of  the  house — especially  the  windows  of 
those  residences  belonging  to  people  that  had  not  been 
invited  to  the  marriage — were  at  a  premium  among  the 
respective  feminine  members  of  the  various  families. 
In  fact,  during  all  the  past  week,  these  windows  had 
had  eyes,  watching  the  tradespeople  coming  and  going. 

"Parcels  !  parcels  !  parcels  !"  had  murmured  Mrs.  Par- 
ker, who  was  not  of  Mrs.  Rossiter's  circle.  "And  only  a 
few  months  ago,  no  one  would  trust  them !" 

And  truly  the  Rossiter  credit  had  soared  of  late; 
Brown,  Jones  and  Robinson  had  not  only  been  very  glad 
to  send  up  what  Mrs.  Rossiter  selected,  but  had  urged 
that  good  lady  to  the  temptation  of  further  extrava- 
gances. Even  Thomas  Jenkins,  Esquire,  had  called — 
this  time  at  the  back  door — and  humbly  solicited  the 
continuance  of  that  patronage  that  had  suddenly  be- 
come so  desirable. 

In  the  reception-room  of  the  old  homestead  the  shab- 
by-genteel aspect  of  furniture,  draperies  and  carpet  was 
overshadowed  and  lost  sight  of  in  the  profusion  of  deco- 


48  BLACK  FEIDAY 

rations  and  floral  adornments.  Here  were  gathered  the 
heroine  of  the  occasion  and  her  bridesmaids.  Did  Miss 
Eossiter  realize  the  importance  of  the  step  she  was  tak- 
ing? With  more  than  usual  vivacity  she  was  chatting 
with  her  fair  bevy  of  assistants,  the  whiteness  of  her  at- 
tire emphasizing  a  heightened  color  which  gave  to  her 
cheeks  the  tint  of  wild  roses. 

The  mother  of  the  bride,  adorned  in  the  splendor  of 
green  silk,  trimmed  with  point  applique — the  material 
from  the  now  obliging  Brown,  Jones  and  Eobinson — 
glanced  from  time  to  time  severely,  almost  disapprov- 
ingly, toward  her  daughter. 

"Why,  the  child's  frivolous,"  she  thought.  "In  my 
day  young  people  looked  upon  marriage  as  a  very  solemn 
occasion." 

Obviously  Miss  Rossiter's  bridesmaids  also  belonged 
to  a  newer  and  more  volatile  generation,  for  they  were 
all  talking  at  once  and  fluttering  like  so  many  white 
pigeons  around  the  cote  at  feeding-time. 

"Oh,"  said  one  of  them,  familiarly  known  as  "Posie" 
Stanton,  "to  get  married  and  then  not  spend  the  honey- 
moon in  Paris  is  like  not  getting  married  at  all !" 

"You  should  have  made  Paris  one  of  the  conditions, 
Elinor  P 

"And  then  reveled  in  gig-top  hats  and  Eistori  bon- 
nets P 


A  LITTLE  SMILE;  A  BIG  WEDD1XG        49 

"And  seen  the  Empress  Eugenie  at  one  of  the  balls  at 
the  Hotel  de  Ville.  They  say  her  dresses  are  dreams."* 

"Yes,  I  should  certainly  have  insisted  on  the  gig-top 
hats  and  Eistori  bonnets !"  said  Miss  Eossiter,  with  a 
laugh  that  sounded  a  little  forced. 

"How  stupid  they  forgot  the  orange-blossoms!"  ex- 
claimed a  miss,  who  wore  a  small  shepherdess  wreath 
and  a  string  of  flowers  which  fell  over  her  throat  like  a 
necklace.  "Fancy  a  bride  without  orange-blossoms  F 

"Oh,  Charlie  Dalton  has  gone  after  them  and — hero 
he  comes !" — as  the  front  door  opened  and  the  servant 
ushered  in  a  young  man  who  approached  without  that 
precipitancy  that  the  importance  of  the  errand  seemed 
to  demand. 

Tall,  broad-shouldered,  moving  with  a  certain  careless 
grace,  he  presented  a  figure  any  woman  would  have  re- 
garded twice.  And  looking  twice,  the  chances  are  her 
glance,  the  second  time,  would  have  lingered  unduly,  if 
not  approvingly,  on  the  well-set  head,  clear-cut  features, 
and  rather  cynical  dark-blue  eyes. 

Following  this  new-comer  closely  came  a  short  homely 
little  man,  with  side  whiskers,  and  the  kind  brown  eyes 
of  a  spaniel,  whose  manner  betrayed  considerable  per- 
turbation, if  not  positive  alarm,  at  being  thus  suddenly 
plunged,  as  it  were,  into  a  roomful  of  vivacious  young 


50  BLACK  FKIDAY 

ladies;  especially  as  he  was  seized  upon  at  once  by  one 
of  the  aforesaid  intimidating  personifications  of  pi- 
quancy, Miss  Posie  Stanton,  the  box  which  he  carried 
promptly  confiscated  and  its  contents  admiringly  sur- 
veyed by  the  whole  party. 

The  bride  turned  to  the  first  new-comer.  Her  eyes 
were  bright;  above  the  clear,  delicate  brow,  her  brown 
hair,  with  its  tinge  of  gold,  fulfilled  the  scriptural  re- 
quirement, and  was  a  glory  to  her ;  with  a  nervous  hand 
she  pushed  it  back. 

"Thank  you,  Cousin  Charlie !"  she  said  lightly.  "There 
was  really  no  need,  but  mama  wanted  to  make  sure.  She 
is  so  afraid  something  will  go  wrong." 

"Don't  mention  it!"  he  answered. 

His  glance  passed  over  her  from  head  to  foot,  a  gleam 
of  involuntary  admiration  replacing  the  irony  in  his 
look.  The  gown  of  rich  white  silk  sheathed  her  in 
shimmering  folds;  her  figure  was  replete  with  girlish 
grace  as  she  stood  there,  her  hands  loosely  clasped  before 
her,  her  head  very  erect  above  the  white  neck.  A  suc- 
cession of  giggles  from  Miss  Posie  and  the  bridesmaids 
caused  him  to  look  away.  His  expression  changed. 

"They  are  trying  on  your  orange-blossoms,  Elinor," 
he  said.  "How  they  all  envy  you!  Each  little  heart 
ie  filled  with  a  big  wedding !" 

"Yes,"  she  laughed.    "It  is  certainly  a  very  important 


A  LITTLE  SMILE;  A  BIG  WEDDIXG        51 

event!"  And  turning,  she  walked  toward  the  brides- 
maids. 

He  looked  after  her  moodily.  The  Eossiters,  he  was 
well  aware,  had  suffered  deterioration,  if  not  collapse, 
of  fortune.  Miss  Eossiter  was  rich  in  all  that  makes  a 
young  girl  attractive ;  Kichard  Strong — 

"Come  on,  Tom,"  he  called  impatiently  to  the  young 
man  who  had  accompanied  him.  "The  other  ushers 
will  be  at  the  church.  It's  time  we  were  off." 

And  Tom — or  the  Shadow,  Charlie's  Shadow,  as  he 
had  been  dubbed  at  college — obeyed  with  an  alacrity 
that  denoted  a  glad  desire  to  escape  from  the  bewildering 
proximity  of  Miss  Posie  and  her  friends. 

"My  dear  child,  are  you  all  ready?"  The  voice  of 
Mrs.  Eossiter  impressively  dominated  the  scene.  "It 
wouldn't  do  to  keep  all  the  people  waiting,"  she  added. 

"The  people!"  murmured  Miss  Eossiter,  vaguely,  as 
one  of  the  maids  arranged  the  fragrant  blossoms  and 
another  applied  a  caressing  hand  in  a  final  'adjustment 
of  tulle.  "Will  there  be  many  of  them?" 

"Many  of  them  ?"  repeated  Mrs.  Eossiter.  "The  place 
will  be  full.  They'll  be  packed  in  as  close  as  Jamaica 
figs!" 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Rossiter!"  cried  Posie,  rushing  upon  that 
lady  like  a  miniature  whirlwind.  "The  carriages  are 
at  the  door !" 


52  BLACK  FKIDAY 

"I  believe  the  hour  has  approached,"  said  Mrs.  Ros- 
siter,  majestically,  drawing  herself  up.  "Elinor,  I  see 
your  father  in  the  hall.  You  had  better  go  now." 

The  adjoining  windows  and  those  across  the  street 
awoke  to  sudden  life  and  interest.  Alas !  that  the  pride 
and  pomp  of  the  once  ceremonial  bridal  procession  of 
the  days  of  Jacob  and  Samson  has  fallen  into  disuse; 
that  Miss  Eowley  and  Mrs.  Crowley  and  the  other  inter- 
ested neighbors  could  look  down  in  the  present  instance 
on  an  aggregation  of  carriages  only,  each  vehicle  dashing 
away  independent  of  the  other  equipages,  presumably 
to  a  common  destination ! 

On  their  way  to  the  church,  Mr.  Rossiter  and  his 
daughter  were  both  rather  quiet.  For  the  time  her  vi- 
vacity seemed  to  desert  her.  He  took  her  hand;  she 
leaned  her  head  a  little  toward  him. 

"How  would  it  be,"  she  said  suddenly,  "if  we  didn't 
go  to  the  church  at  all  ?" 

"My  dear !"  he  exclaimed,  startled. 

"Isn't  mama  happy  ?"  she  went  on  irrelevantly. 

"And  you—" 

"I?"  she  repeated.    "Of  course!" 

He  stroked  her  hand'.  "You  like  him,  don't  you, 
papa?"  she  whispered. 

"Very  much,  my  dear !" 

"Within  the  hymeneal  temple  crowded  an  ostentatious 


A  LITTLE  SMILE;  A  BIG  WEDDING        53 

gathering.  The  majesty  of  robes  a  queue  contrasted 
with  the  airiness  of  feathers.  If  the  diminution  of  the 
circumference  of  skirts  to  the  tiny  circle  of  the  waist 
was  suggestive  of  an  hour-glass,  the  tongues  that  moved 
incessantly  were  like  Time.  Every  lady  gleamed  as  if 
swathed  in  delicate  armor,  for  no  dress,  sack  or  bonnet 
was  considered  complete  in  those  redoubtable  days  un- 
less plentifully  peppered  with  glass  beads.  After  a 
wedding  or  a  church  service,  the  sextons,  it  is  chronicled, 
did  a  thriving  business,  picking  up  beads  and  bugles 
from  pews  and  vestibule ;  and  it  was  a  notorious  fact  that 
when  Mrs.  Bullion  entered  the  sacred  edifice,  the  path- 
way behind  her  was  so  strewn  that  Mr.  Bullion,  who  fol- 
lowed meekly  in  her  wake,  set  the  nerves  of  the  sensi- 
tive on  edge  with  the  crunching  and  crushing  of  his 
boot-heels. 

Everybody  was  there!  All  the  people  the  Kossiters 
knew  and  many  they  didn't  know.  Packed  as  close  as 
figs,  truly,  as  Mrs.  Eossiter  had  surmised,  for  Miss 
Eossiter  was  a  girl  of  acknowledged  beauty  and  Mr. 
Strong  a  man  of  acknowledged  substance.  Those  shut 
out — the  rank  and  file  to  whom  the  sight  of  a  grand  wed- 
ding was  the  great  desideratum,  and,  failing  that,  the 
sight  of  the  grand  people  the  next  best  thing — employed 
themselves  in  the  endeavor  to  identify  those  who  flitted 
across  the  sidewalk,  and  then  flitted  up^the  steps  of  the 


54  BLACK  FRIDAY 

church,  exuding  faint  odors  delicate  as  the  perfumes  of 
Arabia. 

Occasionally  some  one  not  from  Madison  Avenue,  or 
the  other  sacred  residential  precinct,  crossed  their  range 
of  vision  and  got  in — "Tennessee"  Claflin,  for  example, 
spiritualistic  medium  to  the  great  commodore,  and  her 
sister,  Victoria  C.,  who  wore  an  "Eve  hat" — a  leaf  trim- 
med around  with  a  feather!  And,  like  th'6,  hallowed 
court  of  the  temple  of  old,  the  modern  holy  place  be- 
came also  invaded  by  the  "money-lenders" ; x  Brewster 
dressed  like  a  drover,  with  Avarice  written-  pn  his  face 
and  Eeligion  shining  from  his  eyes;  and— f .  ( 

"There  goes  Jim  Jubilee,  Junior,"  said  one  of  those  on 
the  outside  to  his  companion,  a  pert-looking  serving- 
maid,  as  an  alert  figure  mounted  the  steps  of  the  re- 
ligious edifice. 

"Who's  he?"  she  asked'. 

"Don't  know  who  Jim  Jubilee  is!  Jim  Fisk,  what 
owns  all  the  banks  and  all  the  gold  mines  and  a  bench  of 
judges  and  a  bevy  of  ballet  girls." 

How  long  was  Miss  Eossiter  forced  to  wait  at  the  en- 
trance of  the  main  aisle  into  the  church  ?  It  seemed  an 
interminable  period.  Yet  the  minister  was  there,  and 
near  the  altar — "Behold  the  bridegroom, — go  ye  out  to 
meet  him !" 

Her  hand  shook  a  little.    Then  she  heard  the  organ — 


A  LITTLE  SMILE;  A  BIG  WEDDING        55 

low,  deep,  reverberating — and,  after  an  interval,  found 
herself  walking,  apparently  through  no  volition  of  her 
own,  leaning  ever  so  lightly  on  her  father's  arm,  her 
hand  like  a  leaf  clinging  to  a  branch  that  was  shaking 
somewhat  itself ;  wondering  at  the  beauty  of  the  flowers ; 
conscious  of  the  concentrated  staring  of  many,  many 
eyes. 

How  far  was  the  altar !  how  strong  the  perfume  of 
flowers  !  Flowers,  flowers,  everywhere !  What  a  bower 
of  them !  And  through  them  the  luster  of  the  lights 
beaming,  twinkling,  flickering!  Was  she  dreaming; 
were  the  people  illusive;  the  flowers,  fantasies  of  grace 
and  color?  No;  she  really  stood  there  before  an  actual 
altar  in  the  actual  glamour  of  that  radiant  scene.  Not 
only  stood  there,  but  stood  and  answered  soft  and  low, 
thrilling  the  heart  of  Eichard  Strong  as  it  had  never 
thrilled  before;  then  suddenly  a  broken  "God  bless  you, 
dear !"  her  father's  voice ;  it  was  over  then ;  over.  Ab- 
ruptly she  awoke  and  looked  around  her. 

Standing  near,  Charlie  Dalton  watched  her  atten- 
tively. Her  face  was  shadowed  with  a  short  veil;  from 
each  side  floated  a  mass  of  tulle.  The  veil  shrouded  her 
with  mystery ;  through  aroma  and  redolence  he  breathed 
the  sweet  fragrance  of  the  orange-blossoms;  the  flowers 
she  held  which  seemed  a  part  of  herself.  Then  he 
saw  Eichard  Strong,  his  face  illumined;  no  conceal- 


56  BLACK  FRIDAY 

ment,  no  mystery  there;  the  light  of  throbbing  passion 
resting  on  his  powerful  features. 

The  bland,  demulcent  tones  of  Mrs.  Eossiter's  rector 
died  away  in  the  distance ;  with  the  best  taste  and  sweet- 
est manner  he  had  tied  the  nuptial  knot.  Some  minis- 
ters would  have  gone  at  it  roughly,  like  a  sailor  with  a 
hempen  cord;  Mrs.  Rossiter's  rector  performed  the  task 
as  gently  as  a  lady's  maid  tying  a  sash,  smoothing  out 
the  ends,  and  adjusting  the  whole  to  a  pretty  effect. 
First  it  had  been  up  the  aisle ;  now  it  was  down  the  aisle. 
This  time  Richard  Strong  walked  with  the  bride,  who 
seemed  slenderer  in  contrast  with  his  stalwart  figure, 
and  beautiful  as  one  of  the  lilies  near  the  altar. 

A  hum  from  those  without;  the  patient  rank  and  file 
at  length  were  again  to  be  rewarded  with  the  sight  of 
the  bride !  "There  she  comes !"  from  nurse-girl  and 
serving-maid;  exclamations  of  praise  unqualified,  as  the 
couple  crossed  the  sidewalk;  honest  admiration  which 
gave  credence  to  the  adage  that  all  the  world  loves  a 
bride. 

The  carriage  door  was  flung  open ;  the  bride  stepped  in 
and  the  equipage  was  about  to  dash  away,  when  a  tall 
figure  pushed  through  the  spectators  to  the  vehicle.  It 
was  the  clerk,  Tim  Taplin,  hatless  and  unmistakably 
excited. 


A  LITTLE  SMILE;  A  BIG  WEDDING        57 

"One  moment,  sir,  there's  a  little  matter  of  busi- 
ness— " 

"It'll  have  to  keep,"  said  Kichard  Strong. 

The  carriage  drove  away  and  the  crowd  laughed  heart- 
ily and  even  jeered  at  Tim,  who  continued  to  stand  there 
as  in  a  maze. 

"It's  all  very  well  to  say  it'll  have  to  keep,"  muttered 
the  clerk,  "but  suppose  it  can't  keep?"  And  Taplin 
sighed  half-disheartedly. 

Another  than  himself  was  staring  after  the  departing 
vehicle. 

"Well,  Tom,"  said  Charlie  Dalton,  quickly,  as  his 
glance  met  that  of  his  satellite,  when  the  equipage  had 
turned  a  corner,  "what  did  you  think  of  the  perform- 
ance, old  man?" 

' 'Never  saw  anything  go  off  better,"  returned  the 
Shadow.  "It  was  a  great  success." 

Charlie's  lip  curled.  "Success  ?  Yes.  But  devil  take 
it,  Tom,"  he  added  bruskly,  "he  gets  a  good  bargain !" 


CHAPTEE  V 

WHY  TIM   WAS  EXCITED 

"Mr.  Strong's  chief  clerk,  sir!"  Tim  Taplin 
had  whispered  to  the  usher  of  tLe  church  some  time 
before  the  wedding  ceremony,  and  that  obliging  in- 
dividual had  conducted  him  to  a  pew  not  far  from  the 
front. 

Here  Tim  settled  back  with  a  sigh  of  complete  satis- 
faction. Splendid  ornamentation,  beautiful  ladies,  daz- 
zling costumes — it  was  almost  as  interesting  as  the 
nightly  spectacle  from  the  gallery  at  Wallack's !  In 
one  sense  it  seemed  even  more  alluring;  at  the  theater 
Tim  remained  perched  near  the  ceiling,  remote  from  the 
fashionable  portion  of  the  audience,  from  whom  he  was 
separated  by  the  inexorable  decree  of  fate — or  fortune ! 
In  the  church,  on  the  contrary,  he  found  himself  a 
veritable  part  of  the  bon  ton,  lolling  back  on  a  cushioned 
seat,  the  soft  luxury  of  which  contrasted  forcibly  with 
the  uncompromising  hardness  of  the  wooden  benches  in 
the  palace  of  amusement. 

For  a  few  moments  Tim  closed  his  eyes  with  a  thrill 

58 


WHY  TIM  WAS  EXCITED  59 

of  sensuous  pleasure,  while  through  his  mind  floated 
the  old  couplet: 

"Shall  I  be  wafted  to  the  skies 
On  flowery  beds  of  ease?" 

Then,  after  a  brief  enjoyment  of  bodily  gratification, 
he  again  looked  around  him. 

At  first  the  extraordinary  amount  of  originality  al- 
lowed in  hats  impressed  him  to  the  exclusion  of  other 
ideas,  but  gradually  he  became  aware  that  amid  the 
scene  of  vainglory,  faces  familiar  were  set — Tennie  Claf- 
lin,  who  might  be  "short"  on  stocks,  but  was  always 
"long"  on  spirits,  with  a  rising  market  for  floating  ban- 
joes and  phantom  guitars;  fair  "Jennie  June"  who 
sometimes  ventured — albeit  timidly — on  the  Street;  and 
— yes — there  sat  Uncle  Samuel  Brewster  in  a  pew  just  in 
front  of  him,  improving  the  passing  hour,  not  by  study- 
ing the  worldly  spectacle  in  the  church,  but  by  reading 
from  the  Good  Book  which  he  held  upon  his  knee. 

"When  Uncle  Sam'l  quotes  the  Scriptures,  look  out 
for  David  and  his  sling,"  some  one  had  said  of  the  old 
man. 

Now,  however,  he  was  only  immersed  in  the  Book. 
If  Avarice  sat  in  his  heart  six  days  of  the  week,  Religion 
ever  wrestled  with  his  soul  on  the  seventh  day — and 
sometimes,  on  other  special  occasions.  Uncle  SamTs 


60  BLACK  FRIDAY 

face  at  that  moment  betrayed  unwonted  piety  and  sanc- 
titude. 

Now  to  Jam  that  worJceth  is  the  reward  not  reckoned 
of  grace,  but  of  debt For  by  grace  are  ye  saved. 

The  old  man  closed  the  book  and  clasped  his  hands. 
"By  grace — by  grace!"  he  murmured. 

Again  he  opened  the  sacred  volume,  but  his  finger  had 
slipped  from  the  leaves  and  his  eyes  fell  on  a  different 
chapter.  "Talent"— "shekel"  caught  his  eye;  "the  gold 
of  Sheba !"  Now  Avarice,  a  misshapen  Caliban,  jostled 
rudely  with  humility  and  reverence  in  Uucle  SamTs 
breast ;  not  only  jostled,  but  grew  and  grew  in  misshapen 
ugliness  and  deformity. 

"The  gold  of  Sheba !"  Uncle  Sam'l  fell  to  wonder- 
ing what  it  was  like;  how  it  was  fashioned;  how  much 
there  was  of  it.  Illusive  indefmiteness  of  the  Holy 
Book !  A  shekel  weighed,  he  knew,  just  three  hundred 
and  eighty-four  barleycorns.  But — how  much  did  a 
barleycorn  weigh? 

From  consideration  of  the  barleycorn  to  the  conspir- 
acy against  Richard  Strong,  hatched  in  the  church,  rep- 
resented but  one  of  those  processes  of  association  of  ideas 
by  which  many  human  inspirations — for  better  or  worse 
— are  evolved.  Three  hundred  and  eight}r-four  barley- 
corns made  about  a  handful,  thought  Uncle  Sam'l;  in 
imagination  he  held  them  in  one  hand  and  the  shekel  in 


WHY  TIM  WAS  EXCITED  61 

the  other,  then  fell  in  his  mind's  eye  to  examining  the 
coin.  A  pot  of  manna  on  one  side — Uncle  Sam'l  had 
read'  all  the  Good  Book  could  tell  him  about  gold  and 
si  her,  the  "king's  weight"  and  the  "weight  of  the  taber- 
nacle"— on  the  other  side,  Aaron's  rod ! 

Why  Aaron's  rod,  pondered  Uncle  Sam'l.  A  rod 
was  something  to  smite  with;  to  use  upon  your  enemy. 
Gold,  then,  was  it  also  a  lash?  Uncle  Sam'l  knew  it 
was.  Had  he  not  often  felt  the  castigation  of  it?  He 
began  figuring  how  much  it  had  cost  him  at  different 
times,  when  some  one  had  caught  him  in  the  pillory  on 
the  Street ;  how  many  talents  and  shekels  would  it  make ; 
IIOTT  many  grains  of  barleycorn? 

One  occasion  arose  in  his  mind :  when  he  had  set  him- 
self against  Eichard  Strong,  and  when  like  a  giant,  re- 
sistless, that  builcler  and  promoter  of  values  had'  stridden 
steadfastly  to  his  end. 

What  a  scourging  that  had  been !  He  felt  the  stings 
of  it  yet.  In  Uncle  Sam'l's  hand  the  imaginary  coin 
he  held  grew  and  changed;  Aaron's  rod  became  a  ser- 
pent, the  personification  of  all  that  is  wise  and  wily. 
The  serpent  crawled  up  to  his  shoulder  and  hissed  in 
his  ear,  hissed  and  whispered,  and  its  voice  was  dulcet 
and  mellifluous.  The  listener,  with  the  book  on  his 
knee,  a  rapt,  if  not  holy,  expression  on  his  face,  seemed 
to  see  ten  thousand  talents  and  ten  thousand  Aaron's 


62  BLACK  FRIDAY 

rods  all  suddenly  turned  into  serpents,  before  wkich 
Kichard  Strong  was  fleeing. 

Uncle  SaniTs  worn  and  wrinkled  face  gleamed  and 
glowed  with  unhallowed  joy.  A  field  of  serpents  let 
loose  on  his  enemy — what  a  retribution ! 

"Uncle  Sanrl,"  said  a  stammering  voice  by  his  side, 
"y-y-you  are  very  de-v-v-vout  this  morning !" 

It  was  the  witty  Travers,  the  courtly  jester  of  the 
Street,  who  thus  rudely  awakened  the  old  man  from  his 
avenging  dream. 

"I  suppose  you  are  r-r-reading  where  it  says  to  the 
p-p-plundering  money-lenders:  Thou  shall  not  have 
d-d-divers  weights  in  thy  bag." 

"Travers/'  said  Uncle  Sam'l,  a  deep  and  cunning 
purpose  shining  from  his  watery  eyes,  "do  you  remem- 
ber how  Strong  gave  me  a  drubbing  once?  Well,  I've 
got  a  rod  in  pickle  for  him."  He  could  not  get  Aaron 
out  of  his  mind.  "I've  got  a  rod  in  pickle  for  him/'  he 
repeated.  "Strong  is  going  away.  It  will  cost  him 
more  than  railroad  fares  and  hotel  bills.  It  will  cost 
him  a  few  shares  in  some  of  his  railroads.  You 
had  better  get  on  the  right  side  of  the  market.  I  have 
got  it  all  planned  out." 

In  spite  of  the  place  in  which  he  found  himself  Tra- 
vers could  hardly  restrain  his  laughter. 

"You  hoary  old  s-e-einner !"  he  replied.     "So  that's 


WHY  TIM  WAS  EXCITED  63 

w-ir-what  you  got  out  of  the  Holy  Book !  It  m-m-may 
be  an  inspiration,  but — not  of  the  L-L-Lord  I" 

"A  honeymoon/'  chuckled  Uncle  Sam'l,  "is  a  luxury 
few  of  us  can  afford."  And  he  closed  the  Book  and  put  it 
back  on  the  rack. 

Neither  of  the  speakers  had  noticed  Tim  Taplin  be- 
hind them ;  if  they  had  noticed'  him  it  is  doubtful  if  they 
would  have  remembered  who  he  Avas.  Tim  was  but  one 
of  that  army  of  small  workers  whose  name  is  legion. 
But  he  had  eyes  to  see,  ears  to  hear  with,  and  a  moderate 
capacity  of  intelligence  which,  when  not  pushed  to  too 
high  pressure,  responded  fairly  to  the  occasion.  It  is 
undeniable  that  in  the  present  instance  the  pressure  was 
great;  a  little  more  horse-power  seemed  demanded  than 
the  engine  of  understanding  was  capable  of,  but  Tim  did 
his  best. 

He  began  to  realize  that  Uncle  Sam'l,  a  tough,  wiry 
old  prize-fighter,  was  about  to  enter  the  arena  again ;  that 
he  was  looking  for  retaliation  and  Richard  Strong.  Tim 
made  this  out  after  a  fevered  contest  in  his  own  mind 
with  the  pros  and  cons.  The  clerk,  also,  remembered 
the  "drubbing"  his  employer  had  bestowed  upon  the 
other;  he  had  a  vivid  recollection  of  how  Uncle  Sam'l 
had  sought  to  overthrow,  upset  and  annihilate  the  care- 
fully conceived,  elaborately  worked-out  plans  of  Richard 
Strong ;  and  how  the  latter  had  opened  wide  the  throttle 


64.  BLACK  FRIDAY 

and  driven  to  success  with  a  force  that  had  swept  aside 
all  opposition  and  carried  consternation  to  the  camp  of 
the  obstructionists.  But  Uncle  Sam'l  had  crawled 
up  again  and  now  was  once  more  in  excellent  position 
for  battle. 

"Strong  is  going  away.     I  have  it  all  planned  out." 

These  were  the  ominous  words  that  rang  again  and 
again  in  Tim's  brain.  What  planned  out?  A  cam- 
paign of  some  kind,  of  course,  against  his  emplojer. 
The  "right  side  of  the  market"  could  only  be  interpreted 
that  Richard  Strong  would  be  on  the  wrong  side.  Tim 
had  an  abiding  faith  in  Richard  Strong,  single.  But — 

Seneca,  seeing  a  house  falling  to  the  earth,  looked 
around  and  observed :  "Where  is  the  woman  ?"  Tim  had 
only  to  look  up  to  see  her.  There  she  was,  walking  up 
the  aisle;  how  fair!  yet — Tim  had  his  doubts. 

He  gazed  at  Uncle  Sam'l.  That  individual  was  re- 
garding her  intently — a  keen,  knowing,  penetrating 
glance !  Was  he  measuring  the  strength  of  Richard 
Strong's  absorption  in  her  beauty?  Uncle  Sam'l 
chuckled;  her  every  charm  was  his  ally.  And  Richard 
Strong — railroads  had  no  substance  for  him;  he  was 
now  engaged  in  the  fantastical  occupation  of  castle- 
building!  Uncle  Sam'l  unctuously  clasped  his  hands 
before  him  and  rubbed  them.  She  was  more  comely 
than  he  expected,  although  he  had  heard  there  had  been 
many  well-favored  women  in  the  Rossiter  family.  He 


WHY  TIM  WAS  EXCITED  65 

did  not  envy  the  groom  the  possession  of  such  a  bride; 
he  rejoiced  with  him,  as  it  were;  his  mood  reechoed 
for  the  other  the  praises  of  the  Canticles  in  her  behalf. 

"I  must  get  to  Mr.  Strong;  I  must  warn  him," 
thought  Tim. 

But  how  ?  The  words  of  the  rector  were  already  float- 
ing through  the  sacred  edifice;  in  a  moment  the  cere- 
mony would  be  finished  and  RL'^ard  Strong  and  his 
bride  would  be  gone. 

"Excuse  me,  please !"  whispered  Tim  to  his  neighbor. 
"A  sudden  indisposition — "  and  rising,  he  passed  be- 
fore him  and  out  of  the  church. 

Fortunately  the  aisle  was  thickly  carpeted;  his  foot- 
steps were  noiseless,  and  his  sudden  departure  attracted 
little  attention.  How  could  it  be  otherwise  when  the 
eyes  of  the  multitude  were  riveted  upon  a  slender  figure 
in  white ;  when  the  ears  of  the  entire  gathering  were  in- 
tent to  catch  the  answer  of  her  lips? 

Thus  Tim  stood  waiting  when  Richard  Strong  and 
his  bride  at  length  drew  near.  The  clerk's  heart 
throbbed ;  he  had  forgotten  his  hat  in  his  anxiety  to  get 
out.  It  was  the  hardest  task  he  had  ever  set  himself  to 
perform,  and  he  held  back  until  the  last  moment. 

But  finally  he  nerved  himself  to  the  ordeal,  and — 
"It'll  have  to  keep !"     That  was  all  the  satisfaction 
he  had  received  for  the  important  information  he  had  to 
impart. 


66  BLACK  FEIDAY 

A  flutter  of  the  bride's  veil,  through  which  the  girl's 
white  face  shone,  and  the  carriage  was  off.  The  congre- 
gation poured  out,  with  clatter  and  chatter — a  bibble  of 
praise,  and  a  babble  of  dispraise — an  animated  stream  of 
loquaciousness  and  color  that  divided  and  subdivided  it- 
self into  no  less  mercurial  streamlets  which,  in  turn, 
themselves  flowed  unquietly  into  many  streets,  and  grad- 
ually ran  themselves  out  into  various  houses  and  man- 
sions. 

What  should  he  do  now?  asked  Tim.  Eisk  another 
rebuff  ?  After  all,  perhaps,  was  he  not  exaggerating  the 
danger?  Did  not  Eichard  Strong  know  how  to  defend 
himself  ?  The  "right  side  of  the  market" !  It  might 
mean  but  a  point  or  two;  not  a  collapse — one  of  those 
small  victories,  the  effect  of  which  would  be  as  ephemeral 
as  unmomentous.  A  few  lambs  might  be  sheared,  but 
the  leaders — would  they  not  come  out  comparatively  un- 
injured? Such  skirmishes  were  of  daily  occurrence 
and — 

Thus  the  mechanism  of  Tim's  understanding,  which 
had'  run  so  erratically  during  the  church  service,  now 
relapsed  to  its  normal  activity — or  inactivity. 

"I'll  wait  until  to-morrow,"  he  said.  "I've  made  a 
mountain  out  of  a  mole-hill  and — an  idiot  out  of  my- 
self." 

And  Tim  went  back  to  find  his  hat ! 


CHAPTER  VI 

AT  GAY  SARATOGA 

"Bride  and  groom !     There's  no  mistaking  her." 

"Nor  him !" 

At  Saratoga,  in  those  gala  days,  when  society  threw 
over  the  popular  resort  the  radiance  of  its  reflected 
glory,  the  pleasure  of  watching  the  people  arrive  at  the 
hotels  was  not  among  the  least  of  the  many  attractions. 
From  far  and  wide  came  the  guests,  a  cosmopolitan, 
complex  gathering,  all  seemingly  bent  on  the  enjoyment 
of  a  perpetual  festival,  and,  incidentally,  drinking  the 
waters.  The  great  spa  was  then  the  playground  of  the 
country,  where  grown-up  people,  as  well  as  children, 
capered  and  frolicked,  and  only  the  man  of  many  ail- 
ments was  relegated  to  a  special  background  of  his  own. 

With  a  rattle  and  a  rumble,  on  the  night  of  Miss 

Kossiter's  wedding,  the  stage  had  stopped  before  the 

front  entrance  of  one  of  the  principal  hotels  and  was 

emptying  itself  of  its  load  of  living  freight  inside,  and 

67 


68  BLACK  FKIDAY 

its  dead  freight  outside — portable  Xoah's-ark  sort  of 
trunks,  called  "Saratogas'' — when  closely  following  the 
greater  vehicle  out  of  the  darkness  came  a  carriage, 
which  drew  up  sharply  behind  the  coach  and  from  which 
emerged  a  stalwart,  rather  thick-set  gentleman,  and  a 
young  girl.  From  the  coach  to  the  carriage  the  staring 
gaze  of  the  assembled  watchers  was  transferred,  and 
slowly,  beneath  this  general  survey,  the  pair  mounted  the 
steps,  moving  into  the  bright  light  from  innumerable 
gas  jets  on  the  broad  veranda.  The  girl  was  tall,  taste- 
fully dressed,  and — such  seemed  the  consensus  of  opin- 
ion— carried  herself  well,  rather  proudly,  perhaps.  She 
looked  tired,  as  if  the  journey  had  been  long,  and  ap- 
peared to  take  no  special  interest  in  the  brilliant  scene 
with  which  she  was  suddenly  confronted.  Nor  was  her 
manner  marked  with  embarrassment  at  the  almost  silent 
contemplation  of  the  crowd;  she  acted  either  uncon- 
scious of  the  observant,  inquisitive  eyes,  or  indifferent 
to  them. 

"Yes;  their  wedding  trip  !" 

"Where  are  they  from  ?" 

"New  York — you  couldn't  mistake  her !" 

Amid  such  comment,  the  man,  followed  by  his  fair 
companion  and  several  porters  bearing  hand  luggage, 
made  his  way  across  the  extensive  lobby  to  the  desk  and 


AT  GAY   SARATOGA  69 

inquired  for  the  proprietor.  That  gentleman  came  for- 
ward at  once  with  an  urbane  smile  and  conciliatory 
manner. 

"I  telegraphed  you  to  reserve  rooms/'  said  the  new- 
comer. 

"What  name  ?" 

"Richard  Strong." 

The  hotel  man's  smile  grew  broader ;  his  hand  shot  out 
affably;  he  beamed  on  the  young  woman.  How  many 
brides  and  grooms  had  he  sheltered  in  that  vast  hostelry ! 

"Just  so,"  he  said.  "I  have  reserved  for  you  part  of 
the  Vanderbilt  suite.  You  will  find  the  rooms  all  ready 
and  waiting  for  you,  Mr.  Strong." 

And  that  gentleman  did.  High- walled,  spacious 
apartments  fairly  blazed  with  the  brilliant  illumination 
from  crystal  chandeliers.  Thick,  brightly-flowered  car- 
pets lent  cheerfulness  to  the  rooms,  while  massive,  open- 
carved,  rosewood'  chairs  and  sofas  were  in  keeping  with 
the  palatial  expanse  of  the  apartments. 

"Well,  here  we  are !"  said  Eichard  Strong.  "In  spite 
of  the  hotel  runners  and  porters  at  the  depot !  Confess, 
Elinor,  they  rather  startled  you." 

"They  were  a  little  persistent." 

"Persistent!"  he  exclaimed.  "Donnybrook  Fair  is 
order  and  quiet  ^compared  to  that  depot  when  a  train 
comes  in.  But — "  glancing  around  him  cheerfully  when 


70  BLACK  FRIDAY 

the  porters  had  withdrawn  and  they  were  left  alone — 
"they  are  not  sparing  of  their  lights." 

Her  gaze  followed  his  to  the  great  chandeliers  ablaze 
with  scores  of  flaring  gas  jets. 

"It's  quite  like  a  fete,  isn't  it?"  he  continued. 

"Would  you  mind  turning  out  some  of  them?"  she 
asked,  with  a  faint  smile,  as  she  sank  down  on  one  of  the 
settees. 

"Mind  ?  'Not  a  bit !" — and  suited  the  action  to  the 
word.  "How  is  it  now?  And  the  rooms — are  they  to 
your  liking?" 

"They  are  large  enough,  aren't  they?"  she  answered 
mechanically. 

"Everything  is  large  here,"  he  laughed.  "It  is  the 
proud  boast  of  the  proprietor  that  he  has  verandas  a 
mile  long  and  twenty-two  acres  of  carpet." 

She  made  no  reply  to  his  comment  and  he  looked  at 
her  quickly,  noticing  she  had  not  yet  removed  her  hat 
or  wrap. 

"You  are  tired,  Elinor  ?" 

"Yes,"  she  confessed,  passing  her  hand  across  her 
brow. 

A  sympathetic  expression  shone  from  his  eyes.  He 
gazed  down  at  her  proudly,  anxiously.  Perhaps  that 
consciousness  of  his  own  bodily  strength  made  him  but 
the  more  solicitous  for  her.  He  smiled  gently. 


AT  CAY  SARATOGA  71 

"It  has  been  a  hard  day  for  you.  !Mowadays  to  get 
married  is  an  ordeal  for  any  woman.  But  you  went 
through  it  bravely,  and,  as  Mrs.  Eossiter  would  say — ' 
a  gleam  of  humor  shining  from  beneath  his  heavy 
brows — "it  went  off  without  a  break  !" 

"She  studied  the  carpet  attentively.  With  her  head 
down-bent,  her  hair  threw  a  shadow  on  her  face — a 
shadow  that  darkened  her  eyes. 

"I  don't  know  how  you'll  like  it  here,"  he  continued, 
<fbut  it  is  a  little  early  for  the  sea-shore.  Besides — " 
with  a  laugh — "all  brides  nowadays  want  to  go  to  Sara- 
toga !" 

At  his  laugh  she  glanced  up,  drawing  her  gloves 
nervously  through  her  hands. 

"The  ride  on  the  train  seems  to  have  given  me  a  head- 
ache," she  answered  irrelevantly. 

With  real  concern  he  studied  her. 

"What  you  need,"  he  said,  "is  rest.  You  will  be  your- 
self to-morrow.  You  have  had  too  much  to  think  of 
to-day." 

"Perhaps  that  is  it,"  she  assented. 

"Yes,  that's  what  you  need,"  he  repeated  decisively. 
"Eest !"  A  moment  he  hesitated.  "I— I  think  I'll  go 
down  and  look  after  the  trunks,"  he  added. 

"If  you  would !"  she  said,  and  arose  quickly. 

His  glance  responded  with  sudden  passion.    She  was 


72  BLACK  F1UDAY 

very  near,  very  dear,  very  fair  to  him,  and  abruptly 
he  took  her  in  his  arms.  For  a  moment  she  lay  im- 
passive, inert;  then  he  released  her  and  stood  holding 
her  by  the  hands. 

"You  do  look  pale,"  he  said.  Paler  than  I  thought 
at  first.  Are  you  sure  there  is  nothing  you  want  ?" 

"No,"  she  replied ;  "nothing !" 

"Then  I'll  go  and  see  to  things." 

He  turned,  glanced  back  at  her  once,  and  was  gone. 
The  girl  walked  to  the  mantel,  leaned  upon  it.  The  day 
had  been  long;  the  ride  on  the  train,  fatiguing.  It  is 
true  the  trip  had  been  accomplished  with  exceptional 
celerity;  the  engineer,  under  instructions  from  the  mas- 
ter of  Harlem,  had  opened  wide  the  throttle.  But  in 
those  days  before  the  consolidation  of  the  Hudson  Hirer 
and  New  York  Central,  heavy,  solid  vestibule  trains 
were  unknown,  and  the  tracks  were  lightly  ballasted.  In 
consequence  they  had  dashed  on  with  many  a  jolt,  jostle 
and  bump. 

At  times  Elinor  had  held  her  breat^  :  then  had  put 
her  hands  to  her  ears  as  a  piercing  shriek  marked  their 
progress.  She  recalled  brief  intervals  of  rest  at  the 
stations,  followed — alas! — by  more  shocks  and  knocks. 

"Isn't  this  rather  fast  ?"  she  had  ventured  to  ask. 

"I  should  say  so !"  Eichard  had  answered  with  enthu- 


AT  GAY  SARATOGA  73 

siasm.  "Almost  forty  miles  an  hour.  We'll  beat  the 
record  to  Albany." 

"Beat  the  record !"  The  journey  seemed  designed  for 
that  especial  purpose.  She  remembered  thinking  that 
she  should  not  have  minded  going  slower ;  in  a  less  mod- 
ern— more  romantic  fashion,  perhaps.  The  golden  char- 
iot, the  noisy  monster — how  unlike  they  were !  In  the 
books  honeymoons  were  full  of  flowers,  sunshine,  per- 
fume ;  they  two  that  day  had  raced  madly  in  a  cloud  of 
dust,  dirt  and  cinders !  Slowly,  mournfully,  the  shades 
of  twilight  had  gradually  descended  on  the  world,  and 
the  depression  of  the  hour  had  seemed  to  lay  its  finger 
on  her  spirits. 

She  could  feel  it  now,  and,  deeply,  questioning!}',  she 
looked  at  herself  in  the  mirror,  the  while  the  events  of 
the  past  few  months  marshalled  themselves  in  her  mind. 
For  some  time  she  stood  there  without  moving,  her  face 
very  sober  and  thoughtful.  Then  suddenly,  with  an  im- 
patient gesture,  she  turned  away  and  raised  her  hands  to 
remove  her  hat. 

Meanwhile  Richard  Strong  had  walked  down  the  hall 
and  was  slowly  descending  the  stairway. 

"It  is  only  a  little  fatigue,"  he  told  himself,  and,  re- 
pairing to  the  office,  made  inquiries  about  his  baggage. 

As  he  moved  across  the  lower  corridor  the  sound  of 
music  caught  his  ear,  and  turning,  he  found  himself  at 


74  BLACK  FRIDAY 

the  entrance  of  the  ball-room.  At  Saratoga,  where  dress- 
ing was  an  all-absorbing  matter  to  the  fair  sex.  the 
dance,  or  the  masquerade  in  the  evenings,  afforded  the 
supreme  opportunity  for  the  display  of  gowns.  The 
Entre  Nous  waltz  or  the  Kangaroo  gallop  found,  there- 
fore, many  devotees  every  evening  in  the  week — Sundays 
excepted — while  those  who  preferred  something  newer 
became  ready  victims  of  the  fascinating  and  alluring 
"dip." 

It  was  the  "dip"  that  engrossed  the  company,  as  Mr. 
Strong  stood  near  the  doorway.  Ladies  with  bare  shoul- 
ders, dipped;  matrons  whose  arms  and  necks  gleamed 
with  the  luster  of  gems  in  barbaric  profusion,  dipped; 
young  girls  in  the  splendor  of  gowns  from  the  inex- 
haustible arks,  or  trunks,  they  had  brought  with  them, 
dipped;  black-garbed  figures,  with  white  gloves  and 
streaming  coat  tails,  each  one  as  like  his  neighbor  as  one 
jumping-jack  resembles  another,  dipped. 

Above  the  varied  faces  of  the  revelers,  the  graceful  and 
the  grotesque  figures,  Eichard  Strong,  in  imagination, 
saw  one  face  and  form.  He  regretted  now  he  had 
brought  her  there,  in  the  midst  of  that  glittering,  pre- 
tentious throng,  and  wished  he  had  sought  some  quieter 
spot,  some  more  modest  retreat,  for  their  honeymoon. 
But  he  had  thought  to  please  her,  and,  after  all,  there 
•were  many  beautiful  walks  and  drives,  the  lakes,  and  the 


AT  GAY  SARATOGA  75 

wayside  resorts.  One  could  be  in  the  showy  world  and 
yet  not  of  it;  beyond  the  crowd  and  the  hum  and  "the 
shock  of  men" ! 

Conceiving  a  sudden  distaste  for  the  lavish  spectacle, 
he  strode  back  into  the  hall  and  out  upon  the  veranda. 
Here,  also,  were  many  people,  old  and  young;  well- 
dressed  and  over-dressed.  Here,  also,  sounded  many 
voices,  engaged  in  discussing  the  merits  of  the  waters; 
the  relative  speed  of  this  or  that  horse ;  the  croquet  con- 
tests and  bowling  tournaments,  or  a  forthcoming  church 
social,  managed  by  enterprising  local  women. 

From  the  streets,  metropolitan  in  their  gaiety  and 
life,  came  the  rumbling  of  carriages  and  the  pattering  of 
hoofs.  Laughing  boisterously,  a  merry  party  from  the 
lake  and  from  a  repast  of  trout  and  woodcock  with  an 
after-dash  of  famous  old  rum,  drove  up  in  a  large  ve- 
hicle. 

"Phew!"  cried  one  of  them.  "Pishing  is  expensive 
around  here.  Think  of  a  dollar  a  pound  for  all  you 
catch  out  of  the  private  ponds !" 

"Well,  it  didn't  take  many  dollars  to  pay  for  your 
catch !"  retorted  another.  "You  whipped  the  stream  all 
day  and — " 

"Let's  go  into  the  ball-room !  We're  just  in  time  for 
champagne  and  birds." 


76  BLACK  FRIDAY 

"Champagne!  Give  me  some  of  old  Moon's  Vera 
Cruz !" 

Slowly  Richard  Strong  arose,  looked  at  his  watch,  and, 
reentering  the  hotel,  sought  their  rooms.  The  apart- 
ment wherein  he  found  himself  was  deserted;  upon  the 
mantel  lay  her  hat,  which  seemed  to  him  a  part  of  her- 
self because  she  had  worn  it.  He  noticed  her  gloves  be- 
side it,  and  picking  them  up,  regarded  them  with  a 
smile.  They  were  slightly  fragrant;  he  wondered  what 
perfume  it  was  she  used,  knowing  but  little  about  such 
matters.  Something  very  sweet  and  subtle,  at  any  rate ! 
He  touched  them  to  his  lips;  then  stepping  to  a  door, 
pushed  it  open  gently  and  looked  in. 

The  light  was  low.  Was  she  sleeping  ?  Her  hair  with 
its  golden  tints  outspread  in  flowing  profusion.  One 
hand  lay  on  the  pillow.  He  approached';  stood  there — 
how  long  ?  Her  eyes  were  closed ;  her  breathing  regular. 

"Elinor/'  he  said  softly. 

She  did  not  answer.  He  bent ;  dared  to  take  her  hand 
gently.  Upon  her  finger  gleamed  the  ring — his  ring; 
the  band  that  bound  her  to  him  for  ever  and  ever ! 

"Elinor,"  he  whispered. 

Still  silence.  He  listened;  she  seemed  sleeping  like 
a  child — a  tired  child.  A  moment  longer  he  waited ; 
then,  dropping  her  hand,  he  left  as  quietly  as  he  had 
entered. 


AT  GAY  SARATOGA  77 

In  the  dark  parlor  Kichard  Strong  seated  himself  near 
the  open  window.  A  flood  of  moonlight  fell  on  the  floor ; 
the  balmy  air  stirred  the  clambering  vines  about  the 
casement.  Like  the  beating  of  a  pulse,  a  distant  foun- 
tain tinkled.  In  the  grove  many  lights  gleamed  and 
glowed ;  figures  in  white  passed  and  repassed.  The  faint 
sound  of  merriment  below,  the  snatch  of  a  song,  mingled 
with  the  distant  strains  of  music  from  the  ball-room. 

He  lighted  a  cigar;  smoked  it;  touched  the  match 
to  another.  He  had  no  definite  consciousness  ol  time; 
the  moments  passed;  fewer  figures  were  seen  below;  the 
voices  grew  less  audible.  Only  nature's  accents  became 
more  perceptible;  a  cooing  wood-note;  the  sound  of  in- 
sects ;  the  rustling  of  leaves,  and,  from  afar,  as  from  the 
horizon  itself,  a  droning  intonation,  as  if  the  earth  were 
all  tonality. 

In  the  solemn  peace  of  that  august  solitude,  the  stars., 
to  Kichard  Strong,  were  first  very  bright,  then  dim.  So 
they  had  shone  for  him  often  in  his  boyhood  days  when 
at  night  in  the  saddle  he  had  followed  the  cattle  on  the 
plains.  At  times  they  were  a  thousand  eyes;  then  closed ; 
then  opened,  twinkled,  and  shut  once  more.  "Boy,  you're? 
asleep  in  the  saddle,"  his  father  had  said;  and  he  had 
shaken  himself,  only  ere  long  to  have  the  same  mis- 
chievous trick  played  upon  him  by  those  roguish  eyes; 
closing,  opening;  closing,  opening!  Closing — 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE   TELEGRAM   AND   ITS   SEQUEL 

A  strain  from  the  oboes,  a  melody  from  the 
clarinets,  a  defiant  flourish  from  the  horns,  and 
all  the  instruments  caught  up  the  overture,  and 
the  exuberant  joyousness  of  Verdi — the  early  Verdi  of 
our  forefathers — permeated  the  pleasure-grounds.  As 
the  band  began  its  morning  concert  the  capacious  hos- 
telries  gradually  emptied  themselves  of  their  thousand 
and  one  guests.  Those  who  had  dipped  too  assiduously 
the  night  before  now  repaired  to  the  medicinal  springs, 
where  the  lad  with  the  glass  deftly  served  the  scores  of 
comers.  Nature,  prodigal  nature,  invited  all  mankind 
and  womankind  to  taste  of  the  healing  waters,  and  those 
who  accepted  were  divided  into  two  classes:  the 
drinkers  through  conviction  and  the  drinkers  through 
habit. 

"They  are  bride  and  groom !" 

The  dowagers  were  beginning  their  matutinal  gossip 
on  the  verandas. 

"You  read  about  the  Strong-Rossi ter  wedding?" 
78 


THE  TELEGRAM  AND  ITS  SEQUEL        79 

"Oh,  that  is  Miss  Rossiter !" — with  an  accent  which 
might  mean  much,  or  nothing. 

"Yes — you  know  they  say — " 

"Dear  me !    How  interesting !" 

"And  that  isn't  all—" 

Innocently  ignorant  of  the  many  shafts,  sharpened 
with  imputation,  that  were  flying  about  their  heads, 
Richard  Strong  and  his  bride  descended  the  steps.  The 
day  was  in  harmony  with  the  sparkling  character  of  the 
concert;  the  fantasia  of  the  band  found  an  echo  in  the 
minstrelsy  of  the  birds;  the  aria  from  the  instruments 
kept  pace  with  innumerable  ariettas  from  bough  and 
branch.  The  sunbeams,  sifting  through  the  overhanging 
foliage,  made  brighter  the  moving  spots  of  color — morn- 
ing gowns  of  many  hues  and  parasols  of  all  the  tints  of 
the  rainbow !  Here  and  there  an  exaggerated  style  of 
toilet  seemed  but  the  more  grotesque  in  the  pitiless  white 
light  of  that  perfect  day.  Gentility  running  away  from 
vulgarity  had  in  many  cases  been  fairly  overtaken. 

From  these  extremists  in  fashion's  realm  Richard 
Strong's  glance  turned  approvingly  to  the  girl  by  his 
side.  Her  dress,  simple  and  light  in  color,  adorned 
without  detracting  from  a  figure  straight  as  a  reed, 
graceful  and  untrammeled.  Her  face  still  lacked  some 
of  its  delicate  rose-tint — a  comparative  want  of  color 


80  BLACK  FRIDAY 

that  made  her  eyes  look  larger,  darker,  but  she  held  her 
head  with  its  old  air  of  proud  wilfulness. 

To  Richard  Strong  it  seemed  that  all  the  assemblage 
must  be  looking  at  her  and  admiring  her,  and — yes,  even 
envying  him  the  possession  of  so  precious,  if  elusive  and 
mysterious,  a  holding.  He  who  had  sought  and  won 
properties,  valuable  in  the  standard  of  weights  and 
measures,  with  an  impassive  countenance,  now  betrayed 
on  his  features  the  consciousness  of  the  new  dignities 
and  joys  attendant  on  this  latest  acquisition. 

"You  are  not  disappointed  in  Saratoga,  Elinor?"  he 
said. 

"There  are  a  good  many  people,"  she  answered 
vaguely. 

"That's  what  makes  it — Saratoga !" 

They  had  paused  before  one  of  the  fashionable  shops, 
a  flashing  branch  establishment  of  a  New  York  firm. 

"Do  you  see  anything  you  want?"  he  continued,  fol- 
lowing her  glance. 

"No,"  she  replied  quickl}r,  turning  away. 

"Then  you  are  different  from  the  conventional — 
"bride !"  he  went  on,  half-gaily,  half-fonclly.  "I  imag- 
ined the  shops  would  have  a  great  fascination  for  you, 
but — you  have  everything,  or  do  not  care  for  anything 
you  haven't !  If  you  think  it  uninteresting  or  too  spec- 


THE  TELEGEAM  AND  ITS  SEQUEL         81 

tacular  here,"  he  added,  "we  can  go  somewhere  else  in 
a  few  days.  All  I  want  is  to  please  you." 

She  raised  her  eyes  without  answering,  looked  at  him 
quickly  and  then  glanced  down. 

"What  are  those  children  selling?"  she  asked  irrele- 
vantly. "Bags  of  confectionery?" 

"N~o ;  only  the  famous  fried  potatoes  of  Saratoga  I" 

He  smiled  as  he  spoke ;  then  bowed  to  an  acquaintance. 
There  were  many  California  people  in  that  great  gather- 
ing; powerful  knights  of  finance  who  had  wrested  their 
golden  spears  and  hucklers  from  the  earth,  and  now 
came,  Sir  Launcelots  for  valor,  a-tilting  against  the 
East.  For  the  good  knights'  ladies,  the  well-known  spa 
offered  opportunities  to  win  a  way  into  the  society  of 
the  metropolis  itself,  and,  be  it  said  to  the  credit  of  the 
'fair  wives  and  daughters  from  the  land  of  the  Golden 
Gate,  they  were  almost  as  successful  in  their  quest  as 
their  lords  had  been  in  theirs. 

Richard  Strong  knew  many  of  these  western  men  and 
introduced  Elinor  here  and  there. 

"My  wife— Mrs.  Strong !" 

He  looked  more  erect,  more  commanding,  as  he  spoke. 

"You  see  as  many  acquaintances  on  Saratoga's  Broad- 
way as  on  the  real  Broadway,"  he  said,  when  they  had  re- 
sumed their  walk  after  a  second  exchange  of  the  com- 
pliments of  the  day. 


82  BLACK  FRIDAY 

But  she  did  not  appear  to  take  amiss  meeting  and 
speaking  with  people.  On  the  contrary,  it  was  he,  not 
she,  who  turned  from  them  first.  Once  he  even  said: 
''Shall  we  go  on,  Elinor?"  and  she  had  responded  read- 
ily, when  some  one  of  the  party,  a  bluff  man  from  the 
plains,  made  a  jesting  comment  that  sent  the  blood  to  her 
face. 

As  for  Richard  Strong,  he  only  looked  at  her  and 
laughed,  and  breathed  deep  and  long,  as  inhaling  all  the 
happiness  of  that  place.  She  drew  away  a  little,  but  he 
moved  nearer,  and  soon  she  found  herself  walking  close 
to  him  along  a  narrow  path.  Behind  them  lay  the  gay 
and  busy  thoroughfare;  before  them  appeared  the  hills, 
vernal  with  evergreen,  and,  farther  beyond,  the  moun- 
tains, clearly  outlined  upon  the  background  of  blue. 

"How  beautiful  it  all  is  I"  As  he  spoke  his  gaze,  which 
had  been  bent  upon  the  distant  undulations,  returned  to 
her;  he  glanced  down  at  her  hair,  her  face,  her  gown 
bathed  with  the  flickering  light;  the  few  flowers  at  her 
waist. 

"You  mustn't  mind  Thayer  and  his  little  joke,"  he 
went  on.  "He's  a  blunt  sort  of  fellow;  a  true  west- 
erner, though,  with  a  big  heart  and  a  heavy  hand.  He's 
had  quite  a  history,  too !" 

And  in  terse  language  he  described  the  man  and  his 
associates,  from  which  narrative  of  golden  success,  re- 


THE  TELEGRAM  AND  ITS  SEQUEL        83 

markable  as  an  Arabian  tale,  he  was  unconsciously  led 
to  speak  of  himself  and  his  own  plans  and  projects,  un- 
bosoming himself  as  he  had  never  done  before. 

Did  she  hear?  Was  she  listening?  This  world  of  his 
was  a  new  and  a  strange  world  to  her.  Stocks;  bonds; 
railroads ;  money !  A  little  frown  had  gathered  on  her 
brow. 

"It  seems  odd  my  speaking  to  you  of  all  these  mat- 
ters," observed  Richard  Strong,  after  a  while,  not  no- 
ticing her  preoccupation.  "I  have  been  so  accustomed  to 
keeping  everything  to  myself  all  my  life  that  it  has  be- 
come almost  second  nature  not  to  talk,  but  to  think. 
When  a  boy,  I  was  silent,  taciturn ;  'sullen,'  they  called 
me.  'Richard's  mind  is  a  blank,'  said  my  father.  Per- 
haps it  was.  I  wish  he  were  here  to  see  me  now,"  he 
added  suddenly. 

"You  were  very  fond  of  him?"  she  asked,  arousing 
herself. 

"We  lived  in  the  saddle  together;  drove  the  cattle 
from  Texas  to  Missouri ;  when  he  was  shot  in  the  Wilder- 
ness, as  they  called  one  of  the  bad  spots  in  Arkansas,  I 
buried  him  with  my  own  hands.  It  was  a  boy  who  knelt 
by  the  grave  and  whispered  the  prayer  his  mother  had 
taught  him ;  it  was  a  man  who  rode  away !" 

"Did  you — ever  find  the  person  that  shot  him?" 


84  BLACK  FRIDAT 

From  beneath  his  heavy  brow  a  look,  like  a  spark, 
flashed  to  her. 

"Yes,"  he  said  simply. 

"I  should  imagine  you  would  always  seek  vengeance, 
if  any  person  wronged  you."  She  regarded  him  quickly. 

"Vengeance?"  he  replied.    "No." 
-    "Only  justice  !"  she  returned. 

He  was  silent. 

But  the  gladness  of  the  day  soon  won  him  from  the 
thoughtful  mood  those  memories  evoked.  Around  them 
the  leaves  scarcely  whispered  in  the  thicket,  and  the  hush 
of  a  solemn  peace  pervaded  the  deeper  recesses  of  the 
forest.  A  little  brown  thrasher,  shy  and  retiring  in  its 
habits,  flew  far  away  on  their  approach ;  a  gray  squirrel 
scampered  higher,  and,  from  its  lofty  perch,  barked  fear- 
lessly. 

The  sequestered  path  seemed  made  but  for  them,  yet 
other  couples  had  walked'  that  way — doubtless  wrapped  in 
a  transport  of  mutual  inclination — and  Eichard  Strong, 
vith  a  smile,  called  her  attention  to  sundry  hearts  and 
initials  crudely  carved  on  tree  and  sapling,  some  newly 
done;  a  few  old,  almost  obliterated.  He  even  insisted 
upon  stopping  and  deciphering  those  amatory  efforts  of 
the  sighing  swains  who  had  preceded  them  down  that 
redolent  forest  path,  and  once,  while  doing  so,  his  hand 


THE  TELEGRAM  AX  I)  ITS  SEQUEL         85 

upon  hers.  She  laughed  nervously  and  glanced 
around. 

"See !"  she  said. 

Through  the  trees,  cradled  in  the  bosom  of  the  hills, 
they  could  look  upon  the  shining  expanse  of  a  little  lake 
whose  placid  surface  was  unmarred  by  a  ripple. 

"Let  us  go  there !"  she  added,  and  half-ran  down  into 
the  glen.  His  eye  lighted  as  he  followed  her. 

"Elinor  I"  he  called. 

"El-i-nor ! — "  came  the  answering  echo. 

Again  he  called.  She  seemed  surrounded  by  voices 
summoning  her  from  every  side.  With  a  scream,  a  water- 
bird  arose  from  the  bushes  on  the  bank  and  shot  out 
straight  as  an  arrow  across  the  water. 

"Did  it  surprise  you?"  he  asked,  approaching. 

Her  expression  answered  him.  The  half -startled  look 
had  a  charm  of  its  own;  her  cheeks  wore  the  eloquent 
hue  of  the  rose;  her  lips  were  parted  from  the  exercise. 
He  could  not  take  his  eyes  from  her. 

Nearer  he  came;  nearer — 

"  'Scuse  me,  sah  !    Am  yo'  Mistah  Strong  ?" 

A  strange  voice  broke  in  upon  them,  and,  turning, 
Ei  chard  Strong  confronted  one  of  the  porters  of  the 
hotel. 

"'Scuse  me,  sah,"  repeated  that  person,  displaying  a 
formidable  array  of  white  teeth,  "but  I'se  been  huntin* 


86  BLACK  FEIDAY 

foh  yo'  ebberywhere,  Mistah  Strong !  Done  thought  I 
might  find  yo'  neah  the  echo !  Dey  always  comes  heah 
de  fust  day!" 

"Well,  now  that  you've  found  me,  what  do  you  want  ?" 

"Heah  am  a  telegram  for  yo',  sah !  De  clerk  told  me 
to  find  yo',  eben  if  I  hab  to  hunt  ober  de  whole  coun- 
try.  Pretty  near  done  dat,  sah,  already !" 

"How  long  ago  did  it  come?" 

"Half  an  hour>  sah !  I'se  done  been  huntin'  ebber 
since !" 

Mechanically  Eichard  Strong  took  it.  The  lad  still 
remained,  shifting  from  one  foot  to  the  other. 

"Done  been  huntin' — "  he  began  again,  when  the  re- 
cipient of  the  message  handed  him  something.  With  a 
grin  broader  than  ever  the  dusky  messenger  vanished. 

"What  can  it  be?"  said  Eichard  Strong,  opening  the 
envelope.  "It's  in  cipher  at  any  rate,"  he  continued, 
glancing  at  the  missive.  "Would  you  mind  going  back  to 
the  hotel  with  me,  Elinor  ?" 

She,  too,  looked  at  the  telegram  and  her  face  changed 
a  little. 

"Oh,  no,"  she  answered  carelessly. 

"I  left  my  code  in  the  room,"  he  explained.  "This 
may  be  something  important — certainly,  it's  a  long  mes- 
sage! I  wonder" — as  they  retraced  their  steps — "if  it 
has  anything  to  do  with  Tim  and  what  he  wanted  to  tell 


THE  TELEGRAM  AXD  ITS  SEQUEL        87 

me  yesterday  in  front  of  the  church.  He  seemed  ex- 
cited." 

An  indefinable  light  came  into  her  eyes. 

"Didn't  he  say  something  about — business?" 

"Yes.  But  I  can  not  think  it  a  pressing  matter.  Every- 
thing seemed  in  good  shape  when  we  left,  although" — 
thoughtfully — "yesterday,  as  they  say,  is  ancient  history 
in  the  Street !" 

Once  more  in  their  rooms,  after  a  brief  search,  he 
found  his  code,  and,  seating  himself  with  the  little  book 
and  the  telegram  before  a  desk,  worked  silently  for  some 
time.  Standing  near  the  window  Elinor  mutely  watched 
him.  The  sunlight  threw  a  strong  glow  on  his  features 
emphasizing  that  which  was  massive  and  bringing  out 
all  the  resolute  characteristics  of  a  man  who  had  never 
spared  himself — or  others.  It  was  a  hard  face  when  he 
set  himself  to  a  task,  she  thought ;  too  hard !  She  ob- 
served how  slowly  he  proceeded,  searching  for  each  word 
carefully,  verifying  it,  and  setting  down  its  equivalent 
neatly  with  the  pencil  he  held  in  his  hand.  His  coun- 
tenance betrayed  no  emotion;  only  once  or  twice  he 
started  a  little.  His  mouth  grew  firmer;  his  jaw  more 
pronounced;  a  harshness  of  expression  that  now  awoke 
a  secret  resentment  in  her  breast. 

Abruptly  he  arose. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked  mechanically. 


88  BLACK  FRIDAY 

"My  absence  has  been  the  signal  for  attack/'  he  an- 
answered  tersely. 

"What  sort  of  attack  ?" 

"A  cowardhr,  despicable  one !" 

Deliberately,  heavily,  he  strode  across  the  room ;  stood 
•with  his  back  to  her  a  moment,  and  then  returned. 

"Elinor,"  he  said  suddenly,  and  his  voice  sounded  to 
her  as  harsh  as  his  face  had  looked,  "we  must  leave 
here  P 

"Leave?"  She  could  not  conceal  a  start  of  surprise. 
"Where  for?" 

"For  ^ew  York.    At  once !" 

She  regarded  him  steadily.  If  she  had  heard  and  di- 
vined all  he  had  said,  she  heeded  not  its  significance; 
only  his.  expressed  determination  to  leave  abruptly  for 
home.  This  fact,  without  the  rhyme  or  reason  for  it,  be- 
came paramount  in  her  mind  to  every  other  considera- 
tion. 

"But,"  she  said,  rising,  her  hands  clasped  nervously, 
a  fine  irony  in  her  voice,  "for  business — a  matter  01  a 
few  stocks — a  little  money — you  would  give  up  our 
wed — our  trip  ?"  . 

He  made  no  reply.  Looking  down  at  the  carpet,  mo- 
tionless, he  was  considering  possible  combinations,  prob- 
able moves,  and  the  strategic  position  his  enemies  had  al- 
ready taken.  He  again  glanced  over  the  telegram.  Had 


THE  TELEGRAM  AND  ITS  SEQUEL        89 

ho  read  aright?  Yes;  even  his  honor  had  been  attacked. 
Hints  were  rife  of  mismanagement ;  of  funds  improperly 
applied. 

His  silence,  his  disregard  of  her,  caused  her  features 
to  harden.  In  her  tense  mental  mood,  every  act,  ever}' 
expression,  bore  an  exaggerated  significance.  Something 
seemed  to  rise  in  her  throat  and  choke  her.  What  she 
endeavored  so  hard  to  hide  threatened  to  overpower  her. 
She  yet  strove  to  fight  it  down.  Suddenly  he  saw  her 
face. 

"Elinor !"  he  cried. 

"Well?"  she  said,  very  white. 

He  paused.  His  mind  moved  slowly  from  one  object 
to  another. 

"You  do  not  mind  ?    You — " 

"I  ?    Not  in  the  least,"  she  answered  coldly. 

Romance  ! — business  ! — the  modern  prince  would  turn 
back  with  his  bride  for — a  little  money. 

"It  is  harder  for  me  than  for  you  to  give  it  up,"  he 
said.  "You  do  not  know  what  it  has  been  to  me — being 
here  with  you ! — Elinor,  darling ! — " 

Perhaps  it  was  the  strangeness  in  her  eyes,  but  he 
caught  her  suddenly  to  his  breast ;  kissed  her  passionately 
again  and  again,  as  if  by  physical  force  he  would  hold 
her  to  him  for  ever. 

A  moment :  an  eternity !    A  terrible  weakness ;  a  ter- 


90  BLACK  FE1DAY 

rible  strength — and  suddenly  she  tore  herself  from  him 
and  sank  into  a  chair,  her  head  buried  against  the  arm. 
Sobs  shook  her  figure. 

"Elinor/'  he  said. 

Compassion,  tenderness,  transformed  his  face. 

"Elinor,"  he  repeated,  in  pitying  wonder.  <rWhat 
is  it?" 

"Oh,"  she  said,  "can't  you  see — it  is  all  a  mistake — we 
can  never  understand  each  other — never — I  do  not  love 
you  as  I  should — I  can't — I  can't — " 


CHAPTER  VIII 

AN  INTERRUPTED  HONEYMOON 

Richard  Strong  forgot  about  the  attack  on 
Ms  stocks  of  which  he  had  just  learned;  he  forgot 
even  the  covert  and  scurrilous  charges  against 
himself.  The  telegram,  so  important  a  moment 
before,  fell  unheeded  from  his  hand.  He,  who  usually 
knew  his  ground  with  a  moral  certitude  and  stood  on 
that  ground  with  characteristic  positiveness,  unexpect- 
edly found  himself  adrift,  out  of  his  reckoning.  Cer- 
tainly Elinor  had  prepared  for  him  a  great  surprise ;  the 
greatest  surprise  he  had  ever  experienced.  At  first  he 
doubted  the  reality  of  it  and  looked  at  her  with  almost 
pathetic  wonderment,  but  the  sight  of  her  figure,  her 
abandonment,  brought  the  poignant  truth  home  to  him. 

"Get  at  the  facts ;  the  bare,  unsentimental  facts !"  he 
had  always  said  to  his  clerks. 

Now  he  seemed  to  be  saying  it  to  himself  as  he  stood 

there  at  fault.    The  bare,  unsentimental  facts !    He  had 

been  used  to  hard  blows  and  hard  thrusts  all  his  days,  but 

nothing  to  the  pain  of  this ;  he  had  been  accustomed  to 

91 


92  BLACK  FRIDAY 

giving  as  well  as  taking  in  the  rude  buffetings  of  life, 
but  here  suddenly  he  found  himself  powerless  and  un- 
armed. 

"I  do  not  love  you — I  can  not !" 

These  were  her  words.  What  did  they  mean?  The 
meaning  seemed  transparent  enough.  Yet  she  was  with 
him  here — she  had  not  said  no  to  him  that  night  when  he 
had  told  her  of  his  love.  The  ceremony  had  been  per- 
formed yesterday — that,  too,  was  real — stamped  on  his 
heart,  ineffaceably !  For  Richard  Strong,  the  rite  and 
service  was  no  mere  mummery ;  no  patter  of  sentences ; 
no  dead  and  forgotten  language,  for  all  observance  of 
its  literal  purport !  Every  passage  of  the  hymeneal  bond 
had  been  fraught  with  holy,  solemn  significance !  He 
regarded  her  now  almost  mechanically. 

"Why,"  he  said,  "did  you  marry  me?" 

She  did  not  stir,  nor  did  she  reply.  After  her  out- 
burst, words  seemed  to  fail.  She  felt  confused;  incom- 
prehensible even  to  herself. 

"When  you  knew  you  did  not — care  for  me  ?" 

"That  is  it,"  she  said.  "If  I  had  known—"  Her 
voice  died  into  indefiniteness. 

"And  now — you  know?" 

Again  she  did  not  answer  and  his  face  darkened;  a 
flash  came  into  his  eyes.  He  touched  her  arm. 

"Won't  you  —sit  up  ?" 


AN  INTEKEUPTED  HONEYMOON  93 

His  touch  and  the  change  in  his  voice  aroused  her. 
It  was  not  a  request  he  uttered,  but  a  command. 

She  dashed  her  hand  across  her  eyes,  and  raising  her 
head  quickly,  met  his  look. 

"Why — did  you  marry  me?" 

His  glance  probed  her.  It  was  no  longer  the  lover's 
gaze,  but  that  of  Eichard  Strong,  the  man  of  affairs, 
bent  upon  arriving  at  the  truth — the  disastrous  truth, 
perhaps — but  the  truth. 

Onee  more  rebellion  stirred  within  her;  his  bearing 
was  that  of  the  master;  he  made  her  feel  like  a  child. 

"I — don't  know/'  she  said  defiantly. 

Anger  mingled  with  impatience  on  his  face.  He  had 
always  known  his  own  mind;  he  had  no  understanding 
of  a  person  who  did  not  know  his  or  hers.  And  to  have 
entered  into  such  a  bargain  blindly,  or  lightly !  He  had 
never  in  his  life  assumed  an  obligation  he  intended  to 
waive;  he  had  never  put  his  name  to  a  pact,  the  condi- 
tions of  which  he  did  not  mean  honestly  to  fulfil. , 

He  laughed  now — very  harshly.  "Is  that  the  best  an- 
swer you  can  make  ?" 

For  a  moment  he  continued  to  regard  her,  his  jaw  set, 
his  face  wearing  that  expression  that  earlier  had  awak- 
ened her  hostile  response,  then  turning  abruptly,  he 
walked  toward  the  window. 

His  foot  touched  the  telegram — he  started — picked  it 


94  BLACK  FRIDAY 

up.  His  enemies  had  suddenly  become  figures  of  straw ; 
their  onslaught — as  nothing!  Contemptuously  he  tore 
the  message  into  little  bits  and  threw  them  into  the 
waste-basket;  then  stood  near  the  window  with  head 
down-bent  and  knitted  brows.  Since  she  would  not  an- 
swer him,  he  strove,  in  his  straightforward  way,  to  find 
the  answer  for  himself. 

(Without  moving,  Elinor  watched  him,  her  gaze  rery 
fixed  and  bright,  her  whole  attitude  one  of  defiance.  Sud- 
idenly  she  started;  his  face  had  changed  and  its  stern 
pallor  smote  her.  Her  eyes  fell ;  he  did  care — really  care. 
[A  revulsion  of  feeling  seemed  all  at  once  to  overpower 
her;  a  sense  of  shame  for  herself;  the  desire  to  check 
[the  trend  of  his  thoughts ;  to  retract  her  words — 

[At  that  moment,  he  turned  and  again  stood  before 
her. 

"When  you  smiled  at  me  that  day  in  the  window,  had 
anything  happened  to  influence  your  life?" 

She  looked  up  with  uncomprehending  eyes,  striying 
|o  collect  herself. 

"Anything  of  a — practical  nature  ?" 

He  was  thinking  of  Mr.  Eossiter's  visit  to  him  now; 
the  unsalable  southern  securities  that  gentleman  had 
asked  him  about;  Mrs.  Rossiter's  uncompromising 
worldliness. 


AN  XNTEBEUPTED  HONEYMOON'         95. 

"Of  a  practical  nature  ?"  she  repeated.  "I — don't  un- 
derstand." 

All  at  once  the  purport  of  his  meaning  struck  her  and 
the  blood  rushed  to  her  face ;  her  eyes  dilated. 

"Oh,  no !"  she  cried,  "I  did  not — "  and  stopped. 

"Why,  then?" 

Her  hands  tightened  on  the  arm  of  the  chair ;  her  color 
receded.  What  could  she  answer?  How  could  she  ex- 
plain ?  She  felt  sure  of  nothing  now  save  her  own  abase- 
ment. 

A  moment  he  waited,  then  turned  away.  What  mat- 
tered it,  after  all,  why?  His  pride  stopped  at  further 
investigation.  She  had  said  their  marriage  was  a  mis- 
take ;  that  she  did  not  care  for  him,  he  thought  bitterly. 
That  should  suffice.  When  he  spoke  again  his  voice  was 
businesslike. 

"Do  you  need  any  one  to  help  you  with  your  packing  ?" 

She  made  no  sign  that  she  heard  him  and  he  went  to 
the  bell-rope ;  pulled  it.  The  same  colored  lad  that  had 
brought  him  the  telegram  appeared  in  response  to  the 
summons. 

"Send  up  my  bill  at  once;  have  my  trunks  taken  to 
the  depot;  call  in  ten  minutes  for  several  telegrams  I 
wish  to  send." 

"Yes,  sah ;  thank  yo',  sah  !" 

The  door  closed ;  he  turned  to  his  desk  and  began  writ- 


96  BLACK  FRIDAY 

ing  rapidly ;  one  message  to  Tim  Taplin,  apprising  that 
person  of  his  coming,  another  to  his  lawyer,  a  third  to  a 
certain  broker,  his  face  becoming  more  savagely  aggres- 
sive as  he  proceeded. 

At  least  his  opponents  would  not  look  for  his  return. 
They  had  probably  reasoned  no  bridegroom  was  apt 
lightly  to  tear  himself  from  his  bride  on  the  second  day 
of  the  honeymoon  to  engage  in  a  battle  of  prices;  but 
they  had  overlooked  the  weight  of  the  personal  imputa- 
tions, which  had  really  first  moved  Richard  Strong  to 
that  radical  determination. 

Mechanically  and  with  a  white  face,  Elinor  set  about 
the  work  of  packing.  There  was  little  to  be  done ;  only 
one  or  two  of  the  dresses  had  been  removed  from  the 
trunks.  Those  more  elaborate  creations  in  laces  and 
draperies  over  which  Posie  Stanton  had  raved  and  ex- 
claimed, and  which  Mrs.  Rossiter  had  tenderly  deposited 
in  their  respective  trays  with  proud  satisfaction  and  fond 
anticipations  of  the  appearance  her  daughter  would 
make  at  fashionable  Saratoga,  were  doomed  not  to  see 
the  light  of  day  at  that  brilliant  summer  resort.  She 
had  but  performed  this  task;  replaced  the  trays  and 
closed  and  locked  her  trunks  when  a  knocking  at  the 
door  brought  a  waiter  with  a  bill. 

Mr.  Strong  took  the  account  and  handed  the  man  the 
messages  he  had  written. 


AN  INTERRUPTED  HONEYMOON          97 

"Send  these  immediately.  They  are  important.  You 
have  a  telegraph  office  in  the  hotel?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"And  call  a  carriage  in" — he  consulted  a  time-table — • 
"half  an  hour." 

The  man  departed;  Richard  Strong's  glance  rested 
coldly  on  his  wife. 

"Are  }'ou  ready  ?"  he  said. 

"Yes/'  she  answered  in  a  low  tone. 

"Well,"  he  went  on,  "have  you  thought  it  all  out — 
what  is  best  to  be  done  ?" 

"No-o,"  she  answered.  "That  is — of  course  I  shall  go 
home." 

He  sprang  to  his  feet.  An  intense  emotion  shone  from 
his  eyes;  his  hands  clenched. 

"Of  course  you  will  not  go  home !" 

"But—" 

"That  much  you  owe  to  me.  I  do  not  believe  ir: 
lightly  wed,  lightly  separated.  Neither  do  I  care  for  the 
stigma  of  a  separation." 

"Can  you  not  see,"  she  returned  calmly,  but  with  an 
effort,  "it  is  impossible  for  me  to  remain — to  accept  any- 
thing from  you,  after — " 

"You  should  have  thought  about  that  before  you  made 
it  imperative  for  you  to  do  so." 


98  BLACK  FRIDAY 

Her  calmness  forsook  her.  "I  can't;  I  can't!"  she 
cried  passionately. 

"Unfortunately  you  have  no  choice." 

"You  are  cruel — unreasonable !"  she  exclaimed, 
straightening  herself.  "It  is  impossible!  What  you 
ask—" 

Her  words  acted  upon  him  like  a  spark;  in  spite  of 
herself  she  shrank  from  the  anger,  the  almost  ungovern- 
able passion  with  which  he  regarded  her.  He  took  a  step 
forward. 

"Cruel!    You!" 

Her  head  sank  into  her  hands.  He  stopped ;  checked 
the  words  that  had  been  about  to  spring  from  his  lips. 

"There  is  no  need  for  any  heroics  or  hysterics,"  he 
said  in  measured  tones.  "I  do  not  ask ;  I  demand  !  It  is 
my  right.  Have  you  any  further  objections  to  advance  ?" 

She  did  not  raise  her  head  or  reply,  and  after  a  mo- 
ment he  added :  "This  subject,  then,  is  closed  between 
us." 

Half  an  hour  later,  the  loungers  in  the  lobby  observed 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Strong  coming  down  from  their  rooms, 
followed  by  the  porters  with  bags,  satchels  and  other 
hand  luggage.  The  bumping  and  thumping  of  the  great 
trunks  that  had  preceded  their  appearance  had  apprised 
those  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  office  of  the  forthcoming 
departure  of  the  bridal  couple.  At  the  front  door  of  the 


AN  INTERRUPTED  HONEYMOON          99 

hotel  the  proprietor  himself  stood  with  cordial  and  ex- 
pansive mien,  as  befitted  the  speeding  of  guests  so  sol- 
vent in  the  world's  goods. 
"What  do  you  think  of  that  ?" 

The  veranda  dowagers  were  watching  the  couple  enter 
their  carriage. 

"Some  one  told  me  it  was  on  account  of  business." 
"And  only  the  second  day  of  their  wedding  trip !" 
"She  looked  to  me  as  if  she  had  been  crying  about  it  I" 
"What  bride  wouldn't — to  be  packed  off  home — " 
Slam !  the  carriage  door  shut.    A  crack  of  the  whip — - 
Elinor's  honeymoon  had  come  to  an  end. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  RETURN  OF  RICHARD  STRONG 

It  was  a  period  of  wondrous  awakening;  the  renais- 
sance of  America.  The  dark  days  of  a  house  divided 
against  itself  had  been  succeeded  by  the  new  birth. 
The  reconstruction  of  the  Union,  and  the  restoration 
of  the  states,  lately  in  rebellion,  to  their  political  rights, 
had  imparted  the  healing  touch  to  old  industries  and  a 
strong  incentive  for  new  ones.  A  wholesome  rejuvenes- 
cence swept  over  the  land.  The  reunited  states  awoke  to 
the  railroad  age;  a  glorious,  golden  period,  when  many 
master  minds  sang  their  verses  in  humming  wheels. 

In  solving  the  problems  of  transportation,  forcing  the 
Juggernaut  to  harness,  and  fastening  to  the  iron  deity 
an  imposing  train  of  full-laden  cars,  the  development 
and  sturdy  growth  of  all  sections  of  the' land  began.  The 
American  seer,  looking  at  Progress,  discovered  it  con- 
sisted of  the  activity  of  to-day,  combined  with  the  assur- 
ance of  to-morrow.  Of  activity  there  could  be  no  lack ; 
eye,  hand,  and  brain  had  ever  been  ready.  Of  assurance, 
or  faith,  that  inspiring  handmaiden  of  industry,  no  one 
100 


TILE  RETURN  OF  KICHARD  STRONG      101 

was  heard  to  lament  her  absence.  Clear-headed,  a  ro- 
bust nymph,  she  urged  her  servitors  to  new  endeavors. 

"Till!  till!  Dig!  dig!"  she  said,  and  the  race  of 
men,  like  ants,  obeyed  her  behests.  Everywhere  the  obe- 
dient monsters  of  burden  puffed  and  whistled,  and 
proudly  whisked  behind  them  their  long  and  flowing  ap- 
pendages. 

Being  literally  a  golden  age — not  in  the  Arcadian 
sense  of  "love  in  idleness,"  the  sound  of  pipes,  and  the 
bleating  or  be-ribboned  lambs — it  was  necessarily  a  pe- 
riod of  combinations  and  consolidation.  But  where 
there  are  builders,  wreckers,  also,  are  found.  The  gentle 
art  of  destroying  values  became  a  nice  game  of  chance; 
whenever  the  horn  of  plenty  grew  too  full  the  temptation 
to  pillage  was  irresistible.  Thus  roads  were  created, 
wrecked,  and  re-created — a  merry  hazard!  The  lambs 
were  not  be-ribboned,  as  in  the  golden  days  of  yore.  In 
this  fortuitous  period  Chloe  would  not  have  recognized 
her  pretty  pets,  for  nature's  soft  adornment  was  ruth- 
lessly shorn  from  them,  and  man  turned  them  over 
to  Providence  to  temper  the  wind  to  their  plight. 

Richard  Strong  belonged  uncompromisingly  to  the 
builders ;  he  had  rather  discouraged  than  encouraged  un- 
due inflation;  he  preferred  an  equitable,  not  an  over- 
issue, of  bonds,  and  assumed  obligations  based  upon  the 
actual  earning  powers  of  the  properties.  But  he  could 


102  BLACK  FRIDAY 

not  control  the  coterie  of  temerarious  spirits  who  tempted 
fortune  and  the  public  in  a  blind  bargain  with  spectacu- 
lar changes.  In  fact,  he  paid  little  attention  to  the  sport- 
ive operations  of  the  various  cliques,  unless  the  onslaught 
became  too  fierce,  and  actual  disaster  was  feared,  when 
of  necessity  he  became  a  participant  in  the  game. 

Upon  their  arrival  at  New  York  after  another  dusty 
trip  on  the  commodore's  famous  Hudson  Eiver  railroad, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Strong  repaired  to  the  Fifth  Avenue 
Hotel.  That  hostelry  was  then  the  scene  of  all  up-town 
speculations ;  its  corridors  as  much  a  part  of  Wall  Street 
as  the  convenient  steps  of  the  Subtreasury.  At  the  cor- 
ner of  Fifth  Avenue  and  Twenty-third  Street  crowds 
might  now  be  seen,  despite  the  hour,  attracted  by  a  blood- 
red  transparency,  announcing  a  petroleum  board  that 
evening,  and  the  opportunities  of  dealing  in  railway  and 
petroleum  stocks  in  gold.  Eichard  Strong,  from 
the  carriage,  noted  the  unwonted  activity,  and  sur- 
mised that  some  of  his  own  properties  were  not  the  least 
among  those  being  traded  in  on  the  curb  at  that  unhal- 
lowed time  for'  business.  Elinor,  however,  glanced  in- 
differently at  the  spectacle.  What  was  there  in  railroads 
or  oil  to  warrant  that  feverish  earnestness?  The  world 
to  her  appeared  all  topsyturvy. 

At  the  hotel  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Eossiter  and  Tim  Taplin 
were  in  waiting. 


THE  RETUKN  OF  KICHAKD  STRONG      103 

"My  dear !  What  a  disappointment !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  • 
Kossiter,  clasping  the  girl  in  her  arms.  "To  be  called 
back  from  your  honeymoon !  It  must  have  been  impor- 
tant business,  Mr.  Strong." 

"It  was,  Madam,"  replied  that  gentleman.  "And  that 
same  business  makes  it  necessary  for  me  to  go  out  now." 

Whereupon,  leaving  his  wife  to  make  such  explana- 
tions as  she  saw  fit,  Mr.  Strong  took  his  departure. 

"Now,"  he  said  to  Tim  Tap!  in  as  the  vehicle  in  which 
they  found  themselves  shortly  afterward  sped  down 
Broadway  at  a  brisk  pace,  "what  is  it  all  about?" 

"I  don't  know  what  the  text  is,"  answered  the  other, 
"but  Uncle  Sam'l  got  it  out  of  the  Bible." 

And  he  briefly  related  the  episode  at  the  church  and 
the  circumstances  growing  out  of  it.  All  day  the  Street 
had  been  black  with  dark  imaginings  and  forebodings  af- 
fecting the  general  list  of  securities;  the  unfavorable 
state  of  the  crops,  manufacturing  and  trade;  the  insuffi- 
cient earnings  of  transportation  companies;  the  unsatis- 
factory course  of  imports  and  exports ;  the  disappointing 
movements  of  the  precious  metals,  and  the  cheerless  con- 
ditions of  the  London  and  the  continental  markets. 

Amid  a  turbid  atmosphere  of  sophistry,  speciousness 
and  mystification,  one  special  stock  had  been  selected  for 
bombardment  and  storming — the  D.  B.  and  C.  Eailroad, 


104  BLACK  FEIDAY 

a  property  recently  acquired  and  now  controlled  and 
managed  by  Eichard  Strong.  That  person  listened  grimly 
to  the  alleged  head  and  front  of  his  offending.  The  cash 
value  of  his  new  railroad,  said  detraction,  was  less  than 
twenty-five  per  cent,  of  the  stocks  and  bonds  issued 
against  the  property;  the  first  mortgage  more  than 
doubled  the  legitimate  cost  of  building,  and  the  construc- 
tion company,  of  which  Eichard  Strong  was  president, 
had  "milked"  the  property  of  all  its  profits,  leaving  the 
army  of  robbed  stock-holders  to  face  a  disastrous  future. 

"Is  that  all?"  quietly  asked  the  listener,  when  Tim 
finally  paused. 

"That's  all,"  said  the  other,  sadly.  "Except  consider- 
able liquidation  has  begun  in  D.  B.  and  C." 

"Liquidation !"  returned  Eichard  Strong.  "A  short 
interest,  you  mean." 

"Yes,  sir.  But  here  we  are,  sir.  You  wait  a  moment, 
Mr.  Strong,  and  I'll  light  up  the  hall  and  the  offices. 
Then  you  won't  stumble,  sir." 

"Xever  mind  the  light  in  the  hall.  I  know  my  way. 
You  remain  here,"  he  continued  to  the  driver,  as  the 
man,  dismounting,  swung  open  the  door  of  the  carriage. 
And  following  Tim  Taplin  through  the  doorway  of  the 
office  building  Eichard  Strong  disappeared  into  the  dark 
corridor  beyond. 

The  man  on  the  box  waited;  then  he  climbed  down 


THE  RETURN  OF  RICHARD  STEONG      105 

again  and  waited.  Finally,  after  what  seemed  an  in- 
terminable period,  he  lighted  a  cigar  and  moved  impa- 
tiently to  and  fro.  He  had  looked  for  a  short  fare  and 
chanced  upon  a  long  one.  He  yawned  and  smoked,  and 
glanced  from  time  to  time  at  the  light  in  a  window.  The 
clock  in  the  distant  steeple  struck  two. 

"I  guess  I'll  have  time  to  drop  around  the  corner  for 
a  quick  bite,"  thought  the  man,  and  suited  the  action  to 
the  word,  leaving  the  horses  standing  with  downcast 
heads,  as  a  guaranty  of  good  faith  and  his  near  presence 
in  the  neighborhood. 

Meanwhile,  unmindful  of  the  hour,  Richard  Strong 
had  been  working  with  characteristic  concentration. 
Letters,  instructions,  orders,  were  tersely  dictated.  Tim, 
an  automaton  of  precision,  wrote  and  wrote,  wondering 
what  his  sister  would  think  of  his  long  absence,  whether 
she  would  attribute  it  to  an  unwonted  outbreak  of  invol- 
untary jollification,  the  tempting  allurement  of  a  music 
hall,  or  some  dire  catastrophe  perpetrated  by  daring  foot- 
pads, when — 

"That  will  do,"  said  Mr.  Strong,  rising.  He  reached 
for  his  hat  and  cane.  "Deliver  the  instructions  to  the 
brokers  personally,"  he  added,  "and  be  sure  and  be  down 
early." 

"Couldn't   be  down  much  earlier,  sir,"  said    Taplin. 


106  BLACK  FEIDAY 


a  long  ways  to  where  I  live,  and  so"  —  glancing  at 
the  lounge  —  "I  might  as  well  stay  here.  Then  I'll  be 
sure  not  to  oversleep  myself  —  that  is,  if  you  will  be  so 
good  as  to  send  the  driver  with  this  note  to  my  sister, 
telling  her  where  I  am.  He  can  just  push  it  under  the 
front  door,  if  you  please,  sir  !" 

"Very  well,"  said  Mr.  Strong,  taking  the  note  ;  "good 
night."  He  strode  down  stairs,  out  into  the  hall,  and 
thence  to  the  street. 

The  thoroughfare  was  deserted  ;  as  still  and  quiet  and 
isolated  from  throbbing  humanity  as  if  it  were  no  longer 
the  great  artery  of  finance  —  the  mart,  the  exchange,  the 
bourse  of  the  New  World  —  but  had  relapsed  to  that  pe- 
riod' when  a  tangle  of  underbrush  marked  its  course 
and  a  palisade  of  posts  and  rails  was  its  most  conspicuous 
feature.  Tim's  emplo}rer  promptly  refused  to  tarry  for 
the  master  of  the  hack  as  that  worthy  had  tarried  for 
him,  and  turning  he  quickly  walked  down  the  street.  As 
he  proceeded,  however,  his  pace  involuntarily  lagged. 
Now  that  the  business  of  the  night  was  over  and  the  ab- 
sorbing zest  of  the  hour  had  passed,  a  heaviness  of  spirit 
assailed  him. 

For  the  first  time  in  all  his  experience,  the  unreality 
of  the  struggle  called  life,  smote  him.  What  did  it  all 
mean?  Whence  did  it  tend?  He  would  have  sworn  to 
positiveness  of  a  seeming  fact  yesterday;  to-day  it  was 
non-existent.  It  had  been  unsubstantial  ;  the  figment  of 


THE  RETURX  OF  RICHARD  STROXU      107 

a  dream !  He,  Richard  Strong,  a  dreamer !  Looking 
up,  from  that  narrow  street  the  stars  now  seemed  to  him 
very  far !  Were  they  chimerical,  too  ?  He  dropped  his 
head  toward  the  ground ;  he  listened  to  his  echoing  foot- 
steps— as  if  his  shadow  were  walking  on  the  other  side  of 
the  street!  His  shadow;  his  second-self?  Would  it  go 
tramping  along  by  his  side  for  ever ;  reminding  him  that 
he,  too,  was  but  a  phantom  briefly  passing  through  some 
mysterious  intermedium,  a  transitional  strife? 

He  was  aroused  by  the  sound  of  a  vehicle  rapidly  ap- 
proaching from  behind.  Urged  by  the  whip  of  the  driver 
the  equipage  drew  quickly  near,  when  the  horses  were 
pulled  up  with  no  gentle  hand,  and  the  carriage  stopped 
in  front  of  Richard  Strong  just  as  he  was  turning  into 
Broadway. 

"Sorry,  sir,"  began  the  driver,  "but  I  thought  I'd  have 
time  just  to  step — " 

"Never  mind,"  returned  Mr.  Strong,  interrupting  this 
explanation,  as  he  entered  the  hack.  "Drive  back  to  the 
hotel !" 

Lower  Broadway,  that  erstwhile  bustling  part  of  the 
stirring  thoroughfare,  was  as  abandoned  as  Wall  Street 
had  been,  but  along  the  upper  regions  of  that  highway 
signs  of  life  and  activity  were  still  not  wanting.  The 
city  was  socially  in  a  transitional  condition ;  the  provin- 
cial chrysalis  had  slowly  worked  out  of  its  tough,  fibrous 
cocoon,  and  the  cosmopolitan  butterfly  had  begun  to 


108  BLACK  FKIDAY 

spread  its  wings.  Bachelors  now  began  to  live  Paris- 
fashion,  renting  furnished  rooms  and  eating  at  the 
restaurants.  Bohemia  flourished;  in  the  small  hours  the 
Circean  cup  went  round;  conviviality  and  good  fellow- 
ship threw  its  roseate  hues  over  deep  potations. 

The  occupant  of  the  carriage,  soothed  by  the  sound  of 
the  wheels  and  sheer  weariness,  had  sunk  into  a  half- 
slumber  on  the  cushions,  and  drove  by  the  chosen  resorts 
of  the  elect,  oblivious  of  the  strains  of  music  wafted  from 
within,  of  the  spectacle  of  a  bibulous  Damon  and  Pyth- 
ias holding  amicable  converse  beneath  a  flickering  street 
lamp.  He  was  recalled  to  himself  by  the  abrupt  stopping 
of  the  vehicle  and  the  voice  of  the  driver:  "All  right, 
sir !  Here  you  are !" 

Eichard  Strong  paid  the  man,  sought  his  rooms,  and 
soon  the  half-slumber  was  succeeded  by  that  brief  ob- 
livion with  which  sleep  temporizes  with  care. 

The  next  morning,  returning  from  the  breakfast-room 
to  his  apartments  after  a  hurried  and  scanty  repast,  dur- 
ing which  he  had  but  hastily  glanced  over  the  news  col- 
umns of  Mr.  Greeley's  paper,  and  even  ignored  that 
great  man's  editorial  for  the  day,  he  encountered  his 
wife.  Though  she  held'  herself  proudly,  her  manner  was 
constrained;  when  he  spoke  to  her  her  color  deepened. 

"We  shall  be  obliged  to  stay  here  a  few  days  until  the 
house  is  ready/'  he  said  in  a  matter-of-fact  tone.  "The 
decorators  had  not  planned  upon  our  being  back  so 


THE  RETURX  OF  RICHARD  STRONG      109 

soon."  And  then  as  he  turned  to  leave — "I  shall  not 
be  back  to  the  hotel  until  night,"  he  added. 

After  he  had  gone,  Elinor,  still  with  heightened  color, 
made  a  pretense  of  adjusting  a  flower  in  her  hair.  For 
a  few  moments  she  went  on  with  her  task,  but  the  flower 
apparently  did  not  suit  her  and  she  ended  by  tossing  it 
aside.  Then  she  went  to  the  window  and  stood  there 
tapping  the  floor  with  her  foot.  She  saw  Richard  Strong 
emerge  from  the  hotel,  cross  the  walk  and  pavement  and 
enter  a  street-car  without  looking  back.  She  followed 
the  car  with  her  glance  as  it  joined  the  down-flowing 
stream  of  vehicles,  until  an  intervening  building  hid  it 
from  sight.  Even  when  it  had  disappeared,  she  continued 
to  look  upon  that  busy  world  from  that  busy  corner. 

At  nine  o'clock  Richard  Strong  was  in  sight  of  his  of- 
fice. As  he  walked  along  the  street  upon  which  the  build- 
ing stood,  sundry  signs  of  a  coming  storm  loomed  on  the 
horizon  of  the  narrow  way.  Several  Hebrews  from  the 
wholesale  clothing  district  had  wandered  out  of  the 
beaten  path  of  commerce  and  found  themselves  on  the 
enticing  thoroughfare  of  speculation.  They  appeared 
nervous,  anxious,  keen-scented.  The  anticipation  of 
quick  profits  that  would  discount  all  ordinary  buying  and 
selling  of  merchandise  shone  from  their  features. 

A  number  of  the  Christian  gentry  who  emulated  their 
Tpraelitish  brethren  were  also  there;  men  who  on  other 
days  quietly  figured  their  interest,  simple  and  compound, 


110  BLACK  FKIDAY 

(discreetly  foreclosed  their  mortgages,  and  eschewed  prac- 
tices demoralizing  to  peace  of  mind  and  conscience. 
Shambling  along,  just  in  front  of  Eichard  Strong,  was 
a  thin  man,  with  a  parchment-like  skin  and  the  com- 
plexion of  an  anchorite.  "Occasional  Jonas,"  he  was 
called;  a  person  who  was  very  seldom  seen  upon  the 
Street,  and  then  only  when  the  frowns  of  fortune  laid 
bane  and  blight  upon  business.  A  hunter  of  values, 
with  beady  eyes,  he  had  come  to  be  regarded  as  a  fore- 
runner of  disaster;  a  ghoul  that  walked  among  the 
wounded  on  the  financial  battle-field,  alert  for  spoils 
and  booty.  Mr.  Strong  smiled  grimly. 

"Good  morning,  Jonas,"  he  said,  overtaking  him. 
"Looking  around  for  a  little  plunder  ?" 

The  man  started.  "No"  he  said  slowly.  "I'm  get- 
ting too  old  for  that.  I  just  came  down  for — for — " 

"A  matter  of  habit !"  interrupted  the  other,  regarding 
him  gloomily  from  beneath  his  heavy  brows.  "Get  all 
you  can,  Jonas." 

And  Eichard  Strong  strode  on.  The  old  man  looked 
after  him;  the  beady  eyes  shone;  the  thin  mouth  closed, 
then  Occasional  Jonas  turned  and  shambled  the  other 
way.  In  front  of  the  church  he  hesitated,  again  looked 
back,  but  finally  went  on  up-town. 

"The  lion  is  unchained,"  he  quoted  to  himself  and 
chuckled. 


CHAPTER  X 

A  FLUTTER  IN  VALUES 

Could  the  picture  of  Jacob  Little  above  Richard 
Strong's  desk  have  descended  from  its  frame 
that  morning  and  stridden  forth  in  the  flesh,  un- 
doubtedly that  speculator  of  the  Street  would  have  rub- 
bed his  thin  hands  in  delight.  As  it  was,  his  eyes  ap- 
peared to  glow  in  portraiture  and  his  features  to  sharpen 
with  zest.  "Here's  excitement!  here's  life!"  the  little 
man  seemed  to  say,  as  if  he  were  not — alas ! — only  an 
inky  semblance  of  a  mortal,  but  the  real  Jacob  who  could 
"paper  his  office  with  notes  he  had  forgiven  the  members 
of  the  Board." 

And  truly  the  scene  at  the  Stock  Exchange  was  in- 
spiring enough  to  draw  to  the  temple  of  finance  all  Ten- 
nie  Claflin's  band  of  ghostly,  wagering  veterans,  the 
spirits  of  those  first  Wall  Street  gamesters  who  met  and 
organized  beneath  the  shadow  of  the  buttonwood  tree ;  or 
the  venturesome  "long-or-short"  gentlemen  of  the  Board 
who  held  forth  betimes  in  the  offices  of  the  old  Courier 
and  Journal!  The  great  money  temple,  itself,  had  not 
111 


112  BLACK  FK1DAY 

long  been  built,  and  represented  the  evolution  of  the  an- 
cient Tontine  Coffee-house,  the  bourse  of  the  early 
fathers. 

Like  Solomon's  temple,  the  foundations  were  on  the 
rock.  It  also  had  several  entrances,  after  the  fashion  of 
that  ancient  proud  edifice,  but  no  Gate  Beautiful.  A 
soft  religious  light,  however,  pervaded  its  interior.  Nor 
was  the  odor  of  incense  wanting ;  a  ventilating  apparatus 
took  the  place  of  swinging  censers  and  supplied  pure  air 
and  perfumes  for  the  devotees.  There  stood  not  one  altar, 
but  many,  each  of  which  served  a  specific  purpose  and 
was  surrounded  by  certain  of  the  elect. 

The  edifice  was  crowded.  From  Broad,  New  and 
Wall  Streets  the  people  came  and  went,  swarming  in  and 
out  the  main  and  back  entrances,  and  thronging  about 
the  Wall  Street  door.  Upon  the  floor  of  the  Temple,  no 
place  had  been  arbitrarily  fixed  for  Jews  and  Gentiles; 
they  brushed  against  one  another,  brethren  in  the  ritual 
of  fortune.  The  service  was  neither  Judaical  nor  Chris- 
tian, but  partook  of  a  sensational  fanaticism,  like  that 
of  a  barbaric  religious  feast  of  old.  Only  these  modern 
worshipers  did  not  cut  and  hack  their  faces  or  breasts, 
but  one  another's  fortunes. 

"I  wonder  what  spring  Strong  is  drinking  from  now  ?" 
laughed  one  of  the  devotees  after  an  unusually  animated 


A  FLUTTEK  IN  VALUES  113 

exhibition  about  the  altar  especially  set  apart  for  that 
gentleman's  securities. 

"It  may  be  a  s-s-spring  at  Saratoga,  but  it's  a  d-d-del- 
uge for  D.  B.  and  C.  at  home/'  said  the  gentle,  scoffing 
voice  of  the  person  addressed. 

"Oh,  it  is,  is  it?"  thought  Tim  Taplin,  who  was  hur- 
rying by  at  that  moment,  all  ears  and  eyes.  "What 
would  you  say  if  you  knew  he  was  right  here  in  New 
York?" 

And  Tim  glanced'  knowingly  at  the  speakers;  then 
wriggled  himself  out  of  the  multitude.  Hubbub  and 
racket  followed  him ;  a  babel  of  voices,  shrill,  clamorous, 
stentorian !  For  a  moment  he  stood  on  the  verge  of  the 
tumult,  and  then  plunged  into  the  street  and  the  bright 
sunshine. 

As  he  turned  away  his  ears  vibrated  to  the  din,  but — 
such  is  habit — he  soon  forgot  the  discord  and  riotous 
spectacle,  and,  before  he  reached  the  office,  had  begun  to 
hum  the  latest  parody  on  the  Italian  opera : 

"When  other  lips  and  other  duns 

Their  tale  of  woe  shall  tell, 
Of  notes  in  bank,  without  the  funds, 
And  cotton  hard  to  sell — 

"Hard  to  sell !"  he  repeated.  "Bless  you,  everybody  is 
selling  to-day !" 

It  was  not  much  more  than  a  stone's  throw  to  the  of- 


114  BLACK  FRIDAY 

fice,  yet  on  the  way  he  was  stopped  twice  by  the  profes- 
sional tipsters.  These  gentlemen,  in  common  with  the 
public,  were  out  in  unusual  numbers;  their  appearance 
varied — from  the  neatly-dressed,  sharp-eyed  touter  to 
the  reduced  codger  who  exploited  his  advice  and  ex- 
pounded his  wisdom  in  some  subterranean  saloon !  All 
were  double-loaded  with  knowledge;  primed  from  the 
fountain-head.  Some  great  man  had  "tipped  them  the 
wink"  and  they  were  but  passing  it  on. 

When  they  stopped  Tim  Taplin,  they  were  searching 
for  another  mythical  wink.  Tim  represented  Richard 
Strong;  he  was  that  gentleman's  wink  in  proxy.  But 
Taplin  waved  them  imperiously  aside;  he  had  certain 
well-fixed  ideas  about  what  was  due  his  own  dignity,  and 
believed  in  holding  these  eavesdroppers  and  professional 
mouthpieces  at  a  safe  and  reasonable  distance.  Richard 
Strong's  chief  clerk  was  a  man  of  importance — some- 
times. 

The  gesture,  nevertheless,  was  sufficient  unto  itself  for 
the  eager  newsmongers.  They  interpreted  it  in  the  light 
of  their  vivid  imaginations  and  were  prepared  to  breathe 
what  they  had  learned  ( ?)  in  mysterious  whispers  and 
vague  innuendos.  From  the  significant  movement  of 
Tim's  arm  to  the  lurid  reports  that  soon  were  going  the 
round  of  the  circle,  represented  a  flight  of  fancy  calcula- 
ted to  make  the  most  inventive  poet  or  fertile  writer  of 


A  FLUTTER  IN  VALUES  115 

romances  turn  green  with  envy.  They  had  Eichard 
Strong  dead1  and  alive;  in  Saratoga  and  New  York; 
buying  and  selling;  long  and  short;  short  and  long — to 
all  of  which  they  found  ready  and  willing  listeners ! 

As  Tim  presented  himself  before  his  employer,  that 
gentleman  looked  up  from  his  desk  and  his  papers. 

"D.  B.  and  C.  is  three  points  lower,  sir,''  said  the  clerk, 
half-mournfully. 

Mr.  Strong  thought  a  moment  and  then  handed  Tim. 
peveral  slips  of  paper. 

"Caution  the  brokers  to  buy  very  dfscreetly,"  he  said, 
"and  only  at  the  figures  given." 

"The  worst  was  at  the  opening,  sir/' 

"Let  the  auditors  have  access  to  every  book," — offering 
no  response  to  Mr.  Taplin's  comment.  "All  the  vouch- 
ers ;  the  expense  accounts ;  everything  pertaining  to  the 
construction  company!  If  there  is  anything  they  don't 
understand  in  D.  B.  and  C.  send'  them  to  me." 

"They  have  three  men  at  it  now,  sir,  and" — with  a 
certain  clerical  pride — "so  far,  have  found  all  the  books 
and  accounts  in  ship-shape  order." 

Eichard  Strong  was  about  to  take  the  public  unre- 
servedly into  his  confidence.  He  had  determined  that 
the  report  of  an  auditing  firm  of  unquestioned  reliability 
and  standing  should  constitute  his  answer  to  the  charges 
preferred  of  gross  irregularities  and  pillaging  in  the  af- 


11 G  BLACK  FRIDAY 

fairs  of  D.  B.  and  C.  Meanwhile  he  made  no  plea; 
silence  was  stronger  than  a  defense  not  fully  fortified 
with  facts  and  figures. 

"The  rest  of  the  list  holds  up?"  he  asked. 

"About  where  it  was,  sir/'  said  Tim,  as  he  left  the 
room  to  carry  out  the  orders  he  had  received. 

His  employer  returned  to  his  work.  He  was  consid- 
ering with  close  attention  such  information  as  he  had 
obtained  of  the  bank  situation  and  the  probable  position 
of  that  prop  of  all  values — money — when  a  soft  mas- 
culine voice,  just"  without,  caused  him  to  glance  toward 
the  door.  The  head  clerk,  in  going  out,  had  left  it 
slightly  ajar.  Richard  Strong  arose  and  moved  toward1 
the  threshold,  intending  to  close  the  door.  Then  he 
stopped;  something  in  the  voice  made  him  pause. 
Where  had  he  heard  it  before? 

"Mr.  Strong  has  returned  home,  you  say  ?  I  must  see 
him  at  once." 

"Is  it  so  very  important,  sir?"  returned  one  of  the 
clerks,  doubtingly. 

"Very  important,  my  good  man !" 

Now  the  listener  remembered  and  placed  the  unruffled 
tones.  Straightway  consideration  of  possible  bank  re- 
serves and  losses  vanished  from  his  mind. 

"Mr.  Strong  left  word — "  again  began  the  clerk,  in 
mild  expostulation. 


A  FLUTTER  IX  VALUES  117 

"But  that  would  not  apply  to  me!    I'll  walk  right  in." 

And  suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  a  gentleman  in 
black  entered  the  private  office.  With  his  round  face 
wreathed  in  a  smile,  he  came  to  a  sudden  stop  upon  en- 
countering Eichard  Strong  near  the  door,  but  in  a  mo- 
ment recovered  himself. 

"My  dear  Mr.  Strong!  This  is  an  unexpected  plea- 
sure." 

The  powerful  hand  of  the  other  closed  mechanically 
upon  the  soft  one  of  his  caller.  Did  he  grip  it  half- 
savagely  ?  The  Eeverend  Doctor  Clement  winced,  but  in 
a  moment  the  smiles  returned.  The  rector  of  Mrs.  Rossi- 
ter's  church  was  nothing  if  not  debonair.  He  did  not 
believe  that  a  Christian  should  of  necessity  be  a  hypo- 
chondriac. If  he  was  pacific  and  palliative  in  the  pulpit, 
he  became  blithe  and  buoyant  away  from  it.  His  was  the 
allegresse  of  the  ecclesiastical  essence;  with  a  cheering 
chirp  for  the  ladies  and  a  playful  pat  for  the  men! 

"Ah,  you  men  of  affairs !"  he  now  said  briskly  to  Rich- 
ard Strong.  "You  haven't  even  time  for  a  honeymoon  !" 
Mr.  Strong's  face  remained  impassive.  "But  day  before 
yesterday  you  were  paying  homage  before  the  hymeneal 
altar,  and  to-day  you  are  worshiping  the  Golden  Calf. 
Ha-ha !  You  see  I  am  talking  to  you  as  if  you  were  al- 
ready one  of  my  parishioners.  We  hope  to  claim  you 
soon,  however,  through  your  wife,  who  has  long  been  one 


118  BLACK  FEIDAY 

of  our  members.  By  the  b}',  what  church  do  you  belong 
to,  Mr.  Strong?" 

"I  contribute  toward  the  support  of  Mr.  Beecher's 
Tabernacle/'  answered  that  gentleman,  briefly. 

The  Reverend  Doctor  Clement  coughed.  His  expres- 
sion was  not  exactly  one  of  disparagement  or  disap- 
proval ;  it  was  vague,  uncertain,  not  susceptible  of  analy- 
sis; the  attitude  of  conservatism  toward  those  churches 
without  the  exact  boundaries  of  a  single  creed. 

"It  is  true  we  are  a  small  congregation,"  he  continued, 
"but  a  very  cozy  one.  However,  my  call  is  not  pastoral 
or  ministerial,  but,  I  fear,  of  a  mundane  nature." 

"How  can  I  serve  you,  sir  ?"  asked  the  other. 

"You  are  the  president  of  the  D.  B.  and  C.  railroad, 
Mr.  Strong.  I  dropped  in  to  learn  about  you  and  a  little 
stock  that  I  hold — a  very  little !  In'  answer  to  my  in- 
quiry when  you  would  return,  your  clerk  informed  me 
you  were  already  here.  Under  the  circumstances,  would 
you  advise  me  to  sell,  or  buy,  or,  in  the  vernacular  of  the 
Street,  'to  stand  pat'?"  The  gaiety  of  his  manner  was 
succeeded  by  momentary  earnestness;  a  trace  of  worry 
or  anxiety  peeped  out  of  his  eyes.  "There  are  some  sad 
rumors  going  around  about  it,"  he  said,  shaking  his 
head.  "Sad  rumors !" 

"Do  you  believe  them  ?"  asked  Richard  Strong,  blunt- 
ly. 

The  caller  colored  a  little.    "It  is  not  for  me  to  believe 


A  FLUTTER  IX  VALUES  119 

or  disbelieve/'  he  replied.  "You  have  your  own  code  of 
—what  shall  I  call  it  ?— ethics,  on  the  Street.*' 

"Then  you  believe  them,"  said  the  other. 

A  look  of  real  distress  appeared  on  the  Reverend  Mr. 
Clement's  face.  "My  dear  Mr.  Strong!"  he  exclaimed, 
and  placed  an  expostulatory  hand  soothingly  on  his  com- 
panion's shoulder. 

"I  do  not  see  how  I  can  help  you  very  much,  Doctor 
Clement,"  returned  Richard  Strong,  shortly.  "If  you 
credit  what  you  hear,  the  stock  is  a  sale.  If  all  that  they 
say  be  true,  it  is  not  worth  the  present  quotations." 

That  this  answer  was  not  as  definite  as  the  caller  had 
hoped  for  was  evident  from  the  expression  on  his  counte- 
nance. But  Doctor  Clement  prided  himself  on  being  an 
astute  observer  of  men  and  motives  and  gradually  the 
perplexity  in  his  eyes  gave  way  to  a  gleam  of  enlighten- 
ment. 

"Thanks ;  thanks  very  much !"  said  the  reverend  gen- 
tleman, and,  pressing  the  hand  of  the  other  warmly  once 
more,  he  turned  to  go.  At  the  door  his  face  recovered  its 
liveliness. 

"Don't  forget,"  he  exclaimed,  "we  expect  Mrs.  Strong 
to  draw  you  into  our  little  circle !" 

Richard  Strong  gazed  out  of  the  window  when  his 
caller  had  departed.  "He  took  what  I  said  to  mean  it 


120  BLACK  FRIDAY 

would  be  better  to  dispose  of  his  stock/'  he  thought,  and 
his  brow  grew  darker  as  he  looked  down  the  street. 

At  that  moment,  it  chanced  that  two  men,  who  were 
passing  on  the  other  side,  glanced  up  of  one  accord  and 
saw  him  standing  there. 

"Thunder !"  exclaimed  the  younger  of  the  two. 
"Richard  Strong  has  come  back !" 

The  elder  man  became  a  trifle  more  yellow;  he  was 
wiping  his  glasses  nervously. 

"Are  you  sure,  Jim,  that  was  Strong  ?" 

"Aren't  you  ?"  was  the  reply.  "Why,  your  glasses  fell 
off  your  nose  from  the  start  he  gave  you.  He  must  have 
noticed  you,  too,"  added'  Fisk,  "for  his  face  wore  an  ex- 
pression the  reverse  of  heavenly." 

By  that  time  Uncle  Sam'l  had  readjusted  his  glasses. 

"I  hadn't  looked  for  him  this  morning — in  fact,  to- 
day— "  he  began  nervously. 

"And  now  he's  here  you  begin  to  wonder  if  he  will 
send  you  where  the  woodbine  twineth !"  laughed  the 
other. 

Brewster's  eyes  gleamed  with  sudden  anger  and  suspi- 
cion. 

"Are  you  going  to  change  your  coat?"  he  said,  fixing 
his  ferret  eyes  on  his  companion. 

"Not  unless  I  find  myself  an  ass  in  a  lion's  skin," 
lightly  commented  the  other,  as  they  moved  on. 


A  FLUTTER  IX  VALUES  121 

Preoccupied  though  he  was,  Richard  Strong  had,  in- 
deed, seen  his  old  enemy,  and  regarded  him  steadily  for 
a  moment  before  returning  to  his  desk. 

In  the  interim  of  waiting  for  developments  on 
'Change,  he  fixed  his  attention  upon  other  matters :  a 
proposition  in  mining ;  the  prospectus  of  an  oil  company 
in  the  early  throes  of  organization.  The  first  he  dropped 
in  a  waste-paper  basket;  the  other  he  filed  in  one  of  the 
numerous  pigeon-holes  of  his  desk,  after  which  he  began 
opening  his  neglected  mail,  sorting  out  the  wheat  from 
the  chaff.  The  latter  followed  the  mining  proposition; 
the  former  was  spread  out  mechanically  and  placed  at 
his  right  hand.  Although  he  had  been  away  only  two 
days,  his  letters  had  accumulated  until  the  reading  and 
answering  of  them  became  a  formidable  task.  Many 
were  from  alarmed  bond-holders  or  people  who  carried 
stock:  these  he  placed  in  a  little  bundle  by  themselves, 
and,  reaching  for  the  bell,  touched  it. 

"Answer  these  letters,"  he  said,  when  the  chief  clerk 
had  responded  to  the  summons.  "These  persons  must  re- 
ceive copies  of  the  reports  now  being  made." 

Tim  silently  took  the  parcel.  Still  he  lingered.  Mr. 
Strong  glanced  at  him  sharply. 

"There's  a  young  gentleman  outside  who  would  like  to 
speak  with  you,  sir,"  said  the  clerk,  hesitatingly. 


122  BLACK  FRIDAY 

An  expression  of  annoyance  shone  from  the  other's 
eyes. 

"I  told  him  you  were  very  busy,"  went  on  Taplin, 
hastily,  "but  he  insisted  upon  my  taking  in  his  card,  and 
here  it  is,  sir !" 

"Mr.  Charles  Dalton,"  read  Richard  Strong,  surveying 
the  bit  of  pasteboard. 

For  some  time  he  continued  to  regard  it.  Tim  folded 
his  arms,  a  mild  intimation  that  even  clerical  patience 
has  its  limits.  What  had  come  over  his  employer  that 
he  should  thus  ponder  over  so  small  a  matter  ?  The  caller 
might  have  been  received  and  dismissed  in  half  the  time 
already  consumed  in  considering  whether  he  should  be 
admitted  or  not.  The  clerk  shook  his  head.  He  had  al- 
ways been  a  persistent,  if  not  deep,  observer  of  the  man 
he  served,  and  was  now  convinced  something  was  wrong 
— something  beyond  stocks  ! 

"What  shall  I  say  to  the  gentleman?"  he  finally  ven- 
tured. 

Mr.  Strong  started,  and  threw  the  card,  with  an  im- 
patient gesture,  upon  the  table. 

"I  can  not  see  him  now." 


CHAPTER  XI 

CHARLIE  ENDEAVORS  TO  NEGOTIATE  AN  IDEA 

At  noon  the  commotion  subsided  somewhat  in  the 
money  temple.  For  the  moment  many  of  the 
participants  dropped,  as  it  were,  the  apple  of  dis- 
cord and  the  bone  of  contention  and  turned  to  the 
real  viands  of  the  Astor  House  or  the  numerous  side- 
street  restaurants.  Here  quick  lunches  and  slow  lunches 
were  served  by  the  colored  waiters,  and  between  sips 
and  bites  the  diners  figuratively  surveyed  their  "paper 
profits" ;  chimerical  clouds  of  gold  and  silver  floating  in 
an  azure  dome ! 

It  was  but  a  brief  breathing  spell;  a  period  when 
fancy  gave  to  airy  nothing  a  local  habitation  and  a 
name.  The  traffickers  walked  on  air,  and  ate  without 
palpable  relish.  As  in  the  case  of  smokers  of  hashish, 
the  reins  of  the  imagination  were  loosened',  and  the 
chariot  of  fancy  drove  headlong  through  fantastical 
realms. 

"D.  B.  and  C.'ll  go  down  to  eighty !" 

"Say  seventy!    You  can  get  it  back  at  seventy!" 
123 


124  BLACK  FRIDAY 

"That  means  quarter  of  a  million  and  a  mansion  at 
Long  Branch !" 

"I  shouldn't  be  surprised  to  see  it  break  sixty !" 

From  the  western  country  m'cliaclias — the  cafes  of 
the  money-rhapsodists — these  dreamers,  however,  soon 
wended  their  way  once  more  to  the  temple,  where  Real- 
ity, a  turbaned  sheik  that  wakes  the  smokers,  would 
shortly  grip  them  by  the  shoulder.  There  the  turmoil 
became  louder. 

"Eighty-nine!"  "Eighty-eight  and  three-eighths!" 
"Five  thousand  at  eighty-eight !" 

Everywhere  Uncle  SamTs  agents  were  offering  D. 
B.  and  C.  down.  It  touched  eighty-six,  but  remained  at 
that  quotation  for  some  time;  then  advanced  a  quarter 
of  a  point.  A  shoal  of  "stop-orders"  had  been  gath- 
ered in ;  for  a  long  time  prices  had  been  skimming  the 
surface  above  this  tempting  bait;  a  deeper  dive — and 
the  minnows  were  caught!  Values  afterward  soared 
a  bit,  and  the  suspense  became  greater.  Most  of  the 
offerings  were  quietly  absorbed  by  the  brokers  of  Mr. 
Strong;  whenever  there  seemed  evidence  of  fair  buying 
from  other  sources,  these  agents  remained  inactive,  re- 
serving themselves  for  any  possible  emergency. 

That  gentleman,  commanding  the  operation  of  a  ma- 
jority of  the  unobtrusive  buyers,  had  eaten  lunch 
at  his  office  sometime  after  the  noon  hour.  The  exciting 


TO  XEGOTIATE  AN  IDEA  125 

moments  had  slowly  slipped  by  and  but  a  brief  inter- 
val of  suspense  remained  before  the  closing. 

Meanwhile  he  drank  his  coffee  and  waited.  From 
where  he  was  seated  he  could  see  a  flood  of  people  is- 
suing from  the  building  that  had  been  a  center  of 
interest  throughout  the  day.  He  set  down  the  cup; 
then  looked  at  his  watch.  A  rap  on  the  door,  and  a 
darky  from  a  near-by  restaurant  entered,  followed  by 
the  chief  clerk. 

"  'Sense  me,  Mistah  Strong !  Mah  instructions  am  t<D 
brin'  back  de  dishes."  With  which  he  began  to  gather 
them  noisily  on  a  tray.  "Done  bought  five  shares 
dat  D.  B.  and  C.  on  de  curb,  Mistah  Strong !"  he  added 
with  a  grin,  shouldering  his  load  and  departing.  Not 
many  months  before  he  had  been  in  bondage ;  from  slave 
to  speculator  represented  but  one  of  the  sudden  transi- 
tions of  fortune  in  that  momentous  period. 

"The  market  is  a  bit  firmer,  sir,"  said  Tim,  when 
the  dusky  operator  in  small  lots  had  vanished.  "I 
don't  know  exactly  what's  caused  it — except  it  is  ru- 
mored Fisk  has  broken  loose  from  Brewster." 

Eichard  Strong  pondered.  Taplin's  conclusion  about 
Jim  Jubilee  did  not  appear  warranted  to  him  at  pres- 
ent. But  it  might  happen  that  the  young  man  would 
later  secretly  shake  off  his  allegiance  to  the  older.  A 
maze  of  conflicting  interests  would  probably  become 


126  BLACK  FRIDAY 

evident  at  the  first  sign  of  impotence  on  Brewster's 
part.  As  long  as  he  was  puissant  and  held  the  key  to 
the  situation,  he  could  hold  his  following,  but  let  an 
inkling  get  out  that  his  grip  was  not  iron  or  his  fingers 
were  slipping,  and  Uncle  Samuel  would  be  left  stand- 
ing alone  in  the  gap.  Such  a  consummation  Rich- 
ard Strong  expected — but  how  long  he  should  have  to 
wait  for  it  he  did  not  attempt  to  tell  himself. 

"By  the  way,  sir,  that  young  gentleman  you  refused 
to  see  this  morning  has  come  back/'  resumed  Taplin. 

"Mr.  Dalton?" 

"Yes,  sir.  When  I  gave  him  your  message  he  said 
he  would  call  around  later  in  the  day.  He  is  now  wait- 
ing outside." 

"Show  him  in !" 

And  Richard  Strong  leaned  back  in  his  chair.  Now 
that  the  day  was  over — that  technical  "day"  of  the 
Street,  measured  by  but  a  few  hours,  not  by  the  rising 
and  setting  of  the  sun — he  became  conscious  for  the 
first  time  of  the  mental  tension  he  had  been  laboring 
under.  The  gratifying  belief  that  the  future  would 
bring  further  advancement  and  an  equitable  readjust- 
ment of  values  did  not  seem  to  afford  him  the  satis- 
faction it  should  have  done. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Strong  ?" 

With  apparently  easy  assurance  Charlie  Dalton  strode 


TO  NEGOTIATE  AN  IDEA  127 

into  the  room.  He  was  carefully  dressed  and'  his  clothes 
set  off  well  his  tall,  athletic  figure.  The  tailor  whom  he 
patronized  could  not  have  found  a  more  fitting  model, 
and  apparently  that  worthy  maker  of  garments  was 
aware  of  the  fact,  for  the  morning  coat  draped  the 
broad  shoulders  without  a  wrinkle,  while  the  light  trous- 
ers had  been  sedulously  cut  to  adorn  the  nice  symmetry 
of  the  lower  limbs.  A  voluminous  flowing  tie  burst 
gaily  from  the  upper  confines  of  the  waistcoat;  a  small 
fob  peeped  modestly  from  beneath  it.  On  his  finger 
shone  dully  an  old  ring — presumably  ancestral!  For 
a  moment  the  two  men  exchanged  glances,  and  it  was  the 
younger  who  again  broke  the  silence. 

"I  heard  you  had  returned,"  he  continued.  "I  met 
Mr.  Eossiter  and  he  told  me  all  about  it !" 

Kichard  Strong  did  not  rise,  nor  did  he  shake  hands 
with  his  visitor, — a  reception  not  in  accord  with  just 
what  Dalton  had  expected.  On  the  few  occasions  when 
they  had  met  before  Mr.  Strong's  marriage  that  gen- 
tleman's manner  had  been  cordial  almost  to  friendliness. 
This  present  remissness,  however,  Charlie  overlooked 
under  the  stress  of  circumstances  so  absorbing  to  this 
master  of  finance,  and,  selecting  a  chair,  dropped  into 
it  without  the  formality  of  an  invitation. 

"I  suppose  Elinor  was  a  good  deal  cut  up,"  he  went 
on.  -"And  the  Saratoga  season  just  begun !" 


128  BLACK  FRIDAY 

The  other  did  not  answer.  Charlie  laid  the  handle 
of  his  cane  meditatively  against  his  chin;  his  eyes  were 
bent  on  the  carpet. 

Why  had  he  called  ?  Richard  Strong  was  asking  him- 
self. And  why — especially — did  he  not  state  his  business 
at  once?  Did  Charlie  Dalton  read  the  disinclination 
toward  himself  in  Richard  Strong's  eyes?  At  any  rate, 
his  own  gaze  returned  that  brief  scrutiny  with  a  cer- 
tain propitiatory  deference. 

"And  how  is  Mrs.- Strong?"  he  asked. 

"Very  well,"  answered  the  elder  man,  shortly. 

He  had  been  wondering  at  that  moment  just  what 
connection  the  Daltons  had  with  the  Rossiters.  He 
knew  a  relationship  existed  between  the  two  families, 
but  how  near  he  could  not  say.  Both  the  Rossiters  and 
the  Daltons  had  been  prominent  in  Colonial  days  and 
had  lived  on  Wall  Street  when  that  thoroughfare  had 
been  devoted  to  fashion -and  culture.  Then,  young  gen- 
tlemen of  the  name  of  Dalton,  in  powdered  wigs  and 
black  satin  small-clothes,  had  promenaded  thereabouts 
with  the  Misses  Rossiter  in  brocaded  silks,  court  hoops 
and  the  gay  hats  of  the  period.  Nevertheless,  the  types 
of  the  two  families  were  entirely  distinct.  They  ap- 
peared of  kin,  but  not  of  kind.  Mr.  Rossiter  represented 
the  embodiment  of  culture  and  oversensitiveness ;  young 
Dalton  was  made  of  more  virile — or  commonplace-^-clay. 


TO  NEGOTIATE  AN  IDEA  129 

"I  am  not  disturbing  you?" 

It  was  Charlie  Dal  ton  who  was  now  studying  Mr. 
Strong. 

"Disturbing?  No!" — looking  straight  at  the  young 
fellow. 

"Interrupting,  then  ?" 

The  other  did  not  reply  at  once.  When  he  did  speak, 
it  was  but  to  answer  the  question  with  another. 

"What  relation,"  said  Mr.  Strong,  abruptly,  "are  you 
to — my  wife's  family?" 

"Elinor  and  I  are  third  cousins." 

Kichard  Strong  drummed  on  the  desk. 

"What,"  he  said  bluntly,  "can  I  do  for  you  ?" 

"Nothing,"  replied  Charlie,  "unless—"  here  he  hesi- 
tated ;  then  added,  "unless  I  can  negotiate  an  idea." 

The  other  stared  hard  at  the  young  man. 

"Why,"  continued  Dalton,  half-apologetically  and 
shifting  his  cane,  "it's  just  a  little  plan  of  my  own  which 
came  to  me  at  the  office  this  morning  as  I  watched  on 
the  blackboard  D.  B.  and  C.  tumbling  down.  It  may 
seem  rather  impertinent  on  my  part  to  bring  it  to  you, 
but  I  couldn't  get  it  out  of  my  head.  So  thought  I'd 
come  anyhow  and  if  you  didn't  care  to  listen — I  could 
go  away  again." 

A  grim  smile  nickered  across  Mr.  Strong's  features. 

"Well,  sir,  what  is  this  idea  of  yours?" 


130  BLACK  FRIDAY 

Charlie  recovered  his  assurance  and  his  manner  be- 
came businesslike. 

"Suppose  you  controlled  most  of  D.  B.  and  C.,  as  no 
doubt  }rou  could,  either  as  cash  or  contract  stock."  He 
glanced  quickly  at  Mr.  Strong,  but  that  gentleman's 
face  told  him  nothing.  "Then  offer  some  of  it  to  the 
bears  for  cash  and  buy  it  back  from  them  on  buyers'  op- 
tions. After  that—" 

And  Charlie  went  on  to  explain  his  plan  or  ruse 
at  length,  growing  more  enthusiastic  as  he  proceeded. 
It  was  not  only  daring,  but  original  and  well-conceived. 
Richard  Strong  listened,  but  made  no  comment  until 
the  young  man  had  finished. 

"That  is  all  very  well,"  he  said,  "and  might  an- 
swer, but" — dryly — "unfortunately  for  your  idea,  I  am 
accustomed  to  proceed  in  my  own  manner." 

A  quick  flush  mantled  Charlie's  face.  "I  am  sorry 
to  have  disturbed  yon,"  he  said,  rising.  "Very  good 
of  you  to  listen  to  me.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  was 
not  very  sanguine  about  the  matter.  Good  day." 

"One  moment!  You  mentioned  your  idea  as  nego- 
tiable. What  did  you  mean?" 

"I  meant  to  sell  it — if  it  was  worth  anything  to  yon." 

"And  how  much  did  you  expect  to  realize?" 

Mr.  Strong's  tone  was  incisive;  his  eyes  probed  his 
visitor.  Charlie  shrugged  his  shoulders. 


TO  NEGOTIATE  AN  IDEA  131 

'"Beggars  can  not  be  choosers,"  he  said. 

"Beggars !"  repeated  Kichard  Strong. 

Involuntarily  he  surveyed  the  new  boots,  the  new  hat, 
the  new  waistcoat. 

The  flush  again  sprang  to  Dalton's  cheek.  Then  his 
eyes  grew  cynical. 

"I'll  tell  you  frankly,  Mr.  Strong/'  he  said;  "when 
the  family  reached  me,  the  old  ancestral  vine  had  run 
to  seed.  In  other  words,  I  came  into  the  world  too 
late.  Had  enough  and  a  little  more  to  get  through 
college  with.  Did  not  know  but  what  there  was  a  lot  of 
lucre  until  my  guardian  died.  Then  I  awoke  to  the 
sad  reality.  I  think — "  he  added  skeptically — "he  had 
helped  himself." 

His  listener  did  not  evince  great  interest. 

"What  did  you  do  then?"  he  asked. 

"The  best  I  could.  I  always  had  a  hankering  for  the 
Street,  but  soon  found  I  couldn't  get  the  kind  of  posi- 
tion I  wanted.  Young  men  of  college  training  do  not 
seem  to  be  urgently  needed  for  places  of  importance  in 
this  neighborhood.  However,  I  compromised  with  my 
dignity  and  at  present" — with  an  ironical  laugh — "I 
am  engaged  in  the  lucrative  occupation  of  'general  util- 
ity man,'  for  Simons,  Shields  and  Company.  'Brokers 
and  Bankers',  they  call  themselves;  you  can  imagine 


132  BLACK  FEIDAY 

what  they  are.  But  I  won't  detain  you  any  longer,  and 
— thank  you  for  seeing  me." 

He  had  his  hand  on  the  door  when — 

"I  can't  use  your  idea,  but  I  might  use  you"  said 
the  man  at  the  desk. 

Dalton  turned  and  looked  back.  Eichard  Strong  was 
recalling  to  his  mind  at  that  moment  a  half-promise 
given  to  Mrs.  Eossiter  before  his  marriage. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Strong,"  that  lady  had  said  one  evening,  "I 
want  you  to  give  Charlie  Dalton  a  chance.  He's  such 
a  bright  young  man  and  comes  from  one  of  our  best 
families.  He  was  brought  up  to  expect  a  competency 
and  now — poor  fellow! — finds  himself  thrown  upon  his 
own  resources." 

"Poor  fellow,  indeed !"  the  other  had  answered  with  a 
smile.  "But  I  will  see  what  can  be  done,  Madam — 
when  we  get  back !" 

"Thank  you.  I  knew  you  would.  I  am  sure  he 
can  be  of  service  to  you." 

A  half-promise  became  usually  a  whole-promise  with 
the  man  at  the  desk ;  he  had  permitted  that  enthusiastic 
lady  to  infer  that  he  might  do  something  when  the 
bridal  trip  was  over. 

"Do  you  want  to  try  it  in  the  office  ?"  said  Mr.  Strong. 

Charlie  started ;  his  eyes  gleamed !  A  sudden  vision 
swept  across  his  mind.  Eichard  Strong  was  to  the  other 


TO  NEGOTIATE  AN  IDEA  133 

a  genie  with  the  magic  lamp.  Opportunity,  the  servitor 
of  the  apt,  beckoned  him  with  enticing  finger.  But  he 
did  not  betray  his  eagerness;  he  passed  his  hand  care- 
lessly through  his  hair. 

"What  to  do  ?"  he  said.  The  recollection  of  a  number 
of  pale-faced  people,  bending  over  desks  in  the  outer 
offices,  pen  in  hand,  abruptly  tempered  his  zeal. 
"Write?" 

"No." 

"All  right,"  replied  the  young  man.  "When  do  you 
want  me,  Mr.  Strong?" 

"I'll  let  you  know.     Good  day." 

"Good  day !"  And  Charlie  Dalton  bowed  himself  out 
of  the  room. 

Not  without  secret  elation  he  swung  around  the  cor- 
ner of  Wall  Street  into  the  main  thoroughfare.  As  he 
had  said,  he  had  scarcely  expected  Mr.  Strong  to  make 
use  of  his  idea;  he  had  gone  to  him  for  really  another 
purpose.  He  wanted  to  know  Mr.  Strong  better  and 
— what  was  more  important — wanted  that  gentleman  to 
know  him.  And  now  Charlie  found  himself  in  a  fair 
way  indeed  to  become  better  acquainted  with  the  finan- 
cier— a  consummation  devoutly  to  be  wished  for  by  a 
young  man  who  had  yet  to  chain  the  god,  Success,  to  his 
car.  Truly  his  visit  had  been  productive  of  better  re- 
sults than  he  had  anticipated. 


134  BLACK  FEIDAY 

He  did  not  know  just  where  he  was  going  now.,  but 
as  he  wandered  on,  past,  present  and  future  blended 
in  his  mind  in  fortuitous  fashion.  He  saw  himself  as  he 
had  been  at  college,  when,  secure  in  the  belief  that  he  was 
master  of  a  handsome  fortune,  he  had  recklessly  in- 
dulged every  caprice,  every  folly.  He  saw  himself  now, 
sobered  by  the  abrupt  revelation  of  his  poverty — his  pre- 
cipitancy tempered  with  cool  calculation.  He  had  not 
been  brought  up  to  figure,  but  confronted  by  grim  ne- 
cessity, the  spirit  of  old  Uncle  Wilhelm — a  rapacious 
ancestor  and  one  of  the  members  of  the  ancient  Ex- 
change organized  beneath  the  spreading  boughs — • 
looked  out  of  his  eyes.  They  were  not  disagreeable, 
hard,  squinting  eyes  like  those  of  the  venal  and  tight- 
fisted  little  gentleman  who  had  frowned  in  oils  upon 
succeeding  generations  of  Daltons,  but  attractive,  deep 
blue,  full  of  contradictions  and  confidence. 

At  the  corner  of  Bleeker  Street  Charlie  almost  ran 
into  a  young  man,  of  short  figure,  wearing  a  white  top 
hat  and  check  suit.  Although  immaculate,  this  person 
was  not  handsome;  his  high  hat  seemed  but  to  em- 
phasize his  lack  of  height  and  his  side  whiskers  looked 
the  more  aggressive  in  the  bright  sunshine.  At  variance 
with  this  latter  superficial  appearance  of  combativeness, 
however,  his  eyes  beamed  kindly  upon  Dalton  and  upon 
the  world  in  general. 


TO  NEGOTIATE  AN  IDEA  135 

"Well,  Charlie,  how  goes  it?"  he  asked. 

Dalton  placed  one  hand  on  the  short  man's  shoulder, 
and  the  other  across  his  own  breast. 

"  'There  is  a  tide  in  the  affairs  of  men/  "  he  began. 

"You  don't  say  so  ?"  cried  the  delighted  Tom  Marks. 
"But  what—" 

" ' And  we  must  take  the  current  when  it  serves' — 
Tom" — descending  abruptly  into  pro'se — "come  along 
and  I'll  tell  you  about  it." 

Mr.  Marks  slipped  his  arm  through  Charlie's,  and, 
as  they  walked  on,  listened  at  first  with  manifest  in- 
terest, then  with  unfeigned  satisfaction. 

"I  don't  wonder  your  idea  caught  his  fancy !"  he 
exclaimed  admiringly  when  the  other  had  finished.  "By 
Jove,  I  don't  believe  any  one  else  would  have  thought 
of  that." 

Dalton  made  an  expostulatory  gesture.  Ever  since 
a  certain  memorable  occasion  at  college  when  he  had 
pulled  the  hapless  Tom  out  of  the  river,  he  found  he 
had  snatched  from  the  depths  a  "friend  who  sticketh 
closer  than  a  brother."  But  Charlie  was  not  one  to  be 
idly  deceived  by  his  satellite's  unqualified  approval. 

"Nonsense,  Tom !"  he  said  doubtfully.  "I'm  not  at 
all  sure  it  was  the  idea.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I 
don't  know  just  what  did  influence  him." 


CHAPTEE  XII 

MR.  EOSSITER  VISITS  THE  STREET 

The  batter}7,  once  the  Belgravia  of  the  older  city, 
had  long  since  been  shorn  of  its  glory;  the  spot 
where  the  courtly  Lafayette  had  been  received 
was  now  a  landing-place  for  immigrants  and  a  ren- 
dezvous for  the  runners  and  light-fingered  gentry 
from  the  Five  Points,  the  St.  Giles'  of  New  York. 
Those  ladies,  whose  grandmothers  had  promenaded  the 
Battery  with  the  fashion  and  elite  of  the  day,  now 
solaced  themselves  with  a  spin  in  the  park  or  an  after- 
noon saunter  on  the  Mall. 

The  city  nesting  on  the  water's  edge  could  not  be  con- 
fined by  old  landmarks.  The  trend  of  fashion  on  Man- 
hattan Island  had  been  steadily  up-town,  until  Fifth 
Avenue,  as  far  as  Fifty-ninth  Street,  had  become  an 
unbroken  line  of  brown  stone.  From  this  highly  respect- 
able thoroughfare  of  the  growing  metropolis,  the  mo- 
notonous-looking fronts  overflowed  upon  Madison  and 
Lexington  Avenues,  Fourteenth,  Twenty-third  and 
136 


MB.  EOSSITEE  VISITS  THE  STEEET     137 

Thirty-fourth  Streets,  and  Madison,  Stuyvesant,  and 
Gramercy  Squares. 

If  a  person  could  be  judged  by  his  house,  as  a  mol- 
lusk  may  be  classified  by  its  shell,  the  observer  of  this 
portion  of  the  newer  New  York  would  have  affirmed  it 
was  populated  by  a  serious,  sedate  people,  every  indi- 
vidual just  like  his  neighbor.  That  this  inference  is  un- 
warranted, the  witty  and  satirical  poets  of  the  day  vehe- 
mently assert,  for  the  press  was  rife  with  doggerels  be- 
laboring Vanity  Fair  and  the  prevailing  modes.  Many 
a  quatrain  against  the  pretensions  of  wealth  brought  the 
bard  his  next  meal,  while  a  bucolic  on  high  life  paid 
for  a  merry  evening  at  Pfaff's  and  a  pipe  and.  beer  in 
kindred  Bohemian  company. 

In  this  gay  Manhattan  town,  near  a  small  private  park 
of  green,  surrounded  by  the  public  highway,  stood  a 
corner  house,  larger  than  its  neighbors,  and  not  with- 
out a  certain  air  of  stateliness  and  grandeur.  This 
spacious  home  Eichard  Strong  had  purchased  for  hia 
bride,  and  thither  they  moved  about  a  month  after  their 
return  from  Saratoga. 

Here  no  sound  more  confusing  than  the  gentle  tink- 
ling of  the  dustman's  bells,  wending  his  way  slowly 
with  his  cart,  or  the  occasional  dash  of  an  intrusive  ve- 
hicle, disturbed  the  tranquil  existence  of  the  dwellers. 
And  even  the  dustman,  begrimed  and  unshaven  like  a 


133  BLACK  FRIDAY 

prophet  of  old,  carried  with  him  his  lesson  on  the  van- 
ity of  worldly  things  and  outward  show. 

"Rags !     rags ! 
Bring  out  your  bags!" 

sounded  the  jingling  bells.    And  then : 

"Iron  turns  to  rust 
And  satin  to  dust!" 

admonished  the  jangling  string  above  the  cart,  with  its 
load  of  litter  and  leavings. 

But  the  month  had  wrought  more  changes  for  Rich- 
ard Strong  than  the  mere  change  of  abode.  After  the 
full  and  unreserved  publication  of  all  the  facts  pertain- 
ing to  D.  B.  and  C.  that  property  had  again  begun  to 
soar  until  it  had  passed  any  previous  mark  recorded 
on  the  Exchange. 

Uncle  Samuel  had  stood  desperately  at  his  post  in  the 
vain  endeavor  to  hold  it.  His  aids  and  assistants,  how- 
ever, had  hastened  precipitously  to  cover,  and,  by  the 
irony  of  that  bitter  warfare  that  arrays  friend  against 
friend,  or  turns  an  ally  into  a  foeman,  the  purchases 
they  made  consisted  of  the  offerings  of  their  erstwhile 
leader  himself,  who  alone,  ignorant  of  this  wholesale  de- 
sertion, continued  to  obey  but  one  mad  prompting — to 
sell!— sell! 

This  instinct  of  self-preservation  on  the  part  of  his 
following  and  the  consequent  general  scurrying  had  but 


Mil.  EOSSITEE  VISITS  THE  STREET     131) 

hastened  the  inevitable  climax.  Uncle  Samuel's  profits 
became  losses;  his  full  pockets,  empty  ones.  He  looked 
around  for  his  friends  and  lo,  he  found  that  "prosperity 
is  no  just  scale,  but  adversity  is  the  only  balance  by 
which  to  weigh  friends." 

Moreover — and  this  was  the  bitterest  after-considera- 
tion— the  man  he  had  sought  to  injure  he  had  only 
greatly  enriched.  Eichard  Strong's  earnings  during  that 
period  of  recovery  were  estimated  as  not  inconsiderable 
even  for  one  of  his  means.  To  protect  himself  he  had 
bought  stock  "all  the  way  down,"  and,  when  values  had 
"struck  bottom,"  he  had  personally  absorbed  nearly  the 
entire  offerings.  Then  the  public,  a  mighty  reserve 
force,  had  stepped  in;  the  upward  movement  had  re- 
sembled the  downward  tendency — rapid,  almost  un- 
stemmed — and  Mr.  Strong's  paper  profits  became  real 
ones.  His  original  holdings  of  the  various  stocks  and 
bonds  he  still  retained;  the  extra  certificates — or  their 
equivalent — he  turned  over  to  the  public  and  the  profes- 
sion. After  the  flurry  was  over,  lie  again  went  the  even 
tenor  of  his  way.  To  him  Wall  Street  was  not  merely  a 
sensational  stock- jobbing  thoroughfare,  but  a  street 
where  new  enterprises,  reaching  over  the  land,  were  born, 
fathered  and  legitimately  financed. 

Exactly  how  well  he  had  fared  in  the  struggle  no 
one  knew  from  him;  but  Mrs.  Eossiter  plumed  her 


140  BLACK  FRIDAY 

feathers  ostentatiously.  Mr.  Rossiter,  however,  looked 
reflective;  he  could  not  entirely  reconcile  his  daughter's 
manner  to  that  unalloyed  felicity  that  Mrs.  Rossiter  told 
herself  and  her  friends  was  Elinor's  marriage-portion. 
At  times  he  fancied  he  detected  grave  shadows  in  her 
eyes,  and  she  seemed  somehow  different,  and  colder, 
more  statuesque  than  consistent  with  Mr.  Rossiter's  old- 
fashioned  notions  of  the  conventionally  happy  bride. 
Once  he  had  even  ventured  to  say  when  they  were  alone 
together : 

"You  are — ahem  ! — perfectly  contented,  Elinor  dear, 
in  your — ahem ! — your  new  life  ?" 

At  first,  his  abrupt  question  had  startled  her ;  she  had 
gazed  at  him  suddenly  with  wide-open  eyes;  then,  be- 
fore his  look  of  perplexity,  or  vague  misgiving,  a  smile 
half -affectionate,  half-reassuring,  had  crossed  her  face. 

"Contented?    Why  shouldn't  I  be,  papa?" 

And  Mr.  Rossiter's  doubts  for  the  time  had  vanished. 

"Of  course,"  he  had  echoed,  patting  her  brown  head 
which  bent  as  readily  as  of  old  to  his  caress.  "Why 
shouldn't  you  be !" 

But  although  his  suspicions  had  been  lulled  to  rest, 
Mr.  Rossiter  felt  that  he  could  not  entirely  understand 
Mr.  Strong.  That  man  of  affairs  had  always  treated  him 
with  unvarying  courtesy,  but  a  difference  in  their  tastes 
and  methods  of  thinking  precluded  other  than  a  formal 


MR.  ROSSITER  VISITS  THE  STREET     141 

intimacy.  Mr.  Rossiter's  mind  ran  to  Rossini;  to  anec- 
dotes of  painters,  ancient  and  modern,  and  to  his  own 
early  days  in  Paris  before  Xapoleon  III  had  mounted 
the  throne,  or  the  Crimean  War  had  shaken  Europe.  He 
understood  very  well  all  about  Continental  politics,  but 
knew  little — and  cared  less — about  what  was  going  on 
at  home.  He  had  a  smattering  of  French,  Italian  and 
Spanish ;  Mr.  Strong  spoke  only  English — and  very  little 
of  that ! 

Therefore  Mr.  Rossiter  was  surprised  one  day  to 
receive  a  letter  from  Mr.  Strong,  asking  him  to  call  at 
his  office  the  next  morning,  if  convenient,  at  a  certain 
hour.  A  request  from  a  man  like  Richard  Strong 
seemed  a  command,  even  to  Mr.  Rossiter,  accustomed  to 
obeying  only  the  wavering  behests  of  his  own  inclina- 
tion; and  accordingly  the  following  day,  with  some 
curiosity  and  wonderment,  he  set  out  for  the  financier's 
place  of  business. 

The  Rossiters,  like  many  an  old  family  of  that  day, 
still  lived  well  down-town,  and,  as  the  distance  was  not 
great  to  his  destination  and  the  weather  fine,  Mr.  Ros- 
siter decided  to  walk.  Stopping  at  a  florist's  he  pur- 
chased a  spray  of  jasmine  which  he  set  jauntily  upon  the 
lapel  of  his  coat  and  strode  blithely  on. 

The  streets  were  thronged  and  his  interest  was  un- 
flagging, as  he  wended  his  way  toward  the  money-center 


142  BLACK  FRIDAY 

of  the  town,  casually  conscious  of  the  contents  of  tlie 
gay  shop-windows — the  strings  of  amber  necklaces,  much 
affected  by  the  ladies  that  season;  the  divers-colored 
displays  of  broad  sash  ribbons;  the  floral  coiffures,  de- 
pending in  long  garlands  of  red  roses  over  the  inanimate 
shoulders  of  the  wax-figure  models  from  Paris ! 

In  his  relish  for  these  decorative  trifles,  however,  Mr. 
Iiossiter  did  not  forget  the  people  that  wore  them. 
Flower-girls,  toy-sellers  blowing  whistles,  and  dog  and 
bird  fanciers,  he  passed  by  unnoticed,  but  the  toilets  of 
the  ladies  drew  from  him  many  an  amused,  if  not 
appreciative  glance — especially  those  figures  in  the 
fullest  glory  of  the  "C4recian  bend" ! 

Here  and  there,  his  gaze  was  attracted'  by  a  passing 
celebrity,  local  or  otherwise;  A.  T.  Stewart,  small, 
shrewd',  keen-eyed;  Thurlow  Weed,  tall,  thin,  shamb- 
ling ;Lydia  Thompson,  rosy,  frowsy,  English!  That  fa- 
mous burlesque  queen  wa.s  then  performing  at  Wood's 
Museum  and  Metropolitan  Theater,  and  whenever  she 
went  out  for  a  walk,  her  progress  through  the  streets  in 
high  heels  and  hoops  invariably  occasioned  even  more 
comment  than  the  appearance  on  the  Eialto  of  the  inim- 
itable Artemns  Ward  himself. 

"Lydia  Thompson,  indeed!"  thought  Mr.  E-ossiter, 
shaking  his  head  disapprovingly. 

In    the  old  days — ah,  then  it    was  different!     Then 


MR.  HOSSlTEli  VISITS  THE  STREET     143 

artists  were,  artists !  People  did  not  run  after  burlesque, 
and  large  London  ladies  with  small  voices !  True,  there 
had  been  dancing,  but — such  dancing ! 

La  Sylphide,  and  Jallco  dc  X.eres,  tripped  by  the 
divine  Fanny !  And  the  operas ! — with  what  wealth  of 
vocal  ornamentation  had  they  been  interpreted ! 

Thus  ruminating,  he  finally  reached  the  street  that 
possessed,  for  him,  so  little  interest;  that  narrow  way, 
whore  were  no  shop-windows ;  where  women  in  buzzing 
throngs  were  wanting,  and,  in  their  stead1,  men,  pale- 
faced  or  eager-eyed,  were  bustling  about  as  if  looking 
for  something.  What  ?  Nothing  Mr.  Rossiter  had  ever 
been  very  much  interested  in — although  something  he 
felt  the  need  of  now. 

His  step  grew  more  staid,  his  expression  pensive;  the 
very  atmosphere  impressed  him.  He  seemed  as  a  stranger 
among  these  people.  Yet  he  knew  many  of  them  by 
sight.  Yonder  black-bearded  little  man  who  was  hurry* 
ing  as  if  to  catch  a  train  was  among  the  first  of  the 
trust-makers ;  his  business,  to  buy  two  or  more  bad  rail- 
roads, make  them  one  good  (?)  railroad ;  issue  bonds  and 
stock  and  then  sell  out  to  the  public.  Mr.  Rossiter  had 
only  an  indistinct  comprehension  of  the  process,  but  he 
had  always  wondered  why  the  public  bought.  He  knew 
they  did ;  that  they  never  failed  to  oblige  the  dark  little 
gentleman,  and  that  when  the  property  became  bank- 


144  BLACK  FRIDAY 

nipt,  he  favored  them,,  and  took  it  back  at  his  own  fig- 
ures. Then  after  a  reasonable  interval — 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Rossiter?" 

It  was  Mr.  Strong  himself  who  thus  accosted  him  at 
the  entrance  of  the  building  where  his  offices  were  lo- 
cated. Mr.  Eossiter  looked  up  quickly,  extending  his 
thin  white  hand  with  easy  cordiality. 

"I  received  your  note,  Mr.  Strong,  and — " 

"The  business  I  wished  to  speak  to  you  about  \ron't 
take  but  a  moment/'  interrupted  the  other.  "I  am 
obliged  to  leave  the  office  for  a  time,  and,  if  you  do  not 
mind,  I  will  tell  you  about  it  here.  That  will  save  your 
time  and  mine." 

Mr.  Rossiter  might  have  replied  that  time  was  of  no 
consequence  to  him ;  that  he  had  never  been  a  slave  to  it, 
and  that  there  was  no  urgent  need  for  precipitancy  on 
his  part  at  the  present  moment.  But  the  other's  ener- 
getic manner  became  contagious,  and  he  replied  more 
briskly  than  his  wont: 

"Quite  true  !    What  can  I  do  for  you  ?" 

A  ghost  of  a  smile  flickered  across  Mr.  Strong's  coun- 
tenance. 

"Some  time  ago  you  spoke  to  me  about  some  southern 
bonds  you  had  purchased  for  Mrs.  Rossiter,"  he  said. 

The  liveliness  faded  fiom  the  elder  man's  face.  He 
had  avoided  of  late  thinking  about  that  unpleasant  topic 


ME.  EOSSITER  VISITS  THE  STEEET     145 

as  much  as  possible;  not  that  he  had  succeeded  entirely 
in  this  resolution  to  set  a  disagreeable  matter  behind 
him.  On  the  contrary,  there  were  moments  when  it 
forced  itself  upon  his  attention;  moments  when  he 
weakly  peered  into  the  future  and  wondered  how  long 
tilings  could  go  on  as  they  were ! 

"Yes,"  he  assented  hesitatingly,  "I  believe  I  did'  men- 
tion that  little  matter  to  you." 

"What  will  you  sell  them  for  ?"  continued  the  other, 
bluntly. 

Mr.  Eossiter  gave  a  start  of  genuine  surprise.  He 
doubted  if  he  had  heard  aright.  Sell  them  ! 

"But,"  he  blurted  out  eagerly,  "they  are  not  worth 
anything !" 

"I  am  my  own  judge  of  that,"  answered  Mr,  Strong, 
dryly.  "There  exists  a  chance  that  a  state,  like  an  indi- 
vidual, may  have  its  moments  of  compunction ;  may  te- 
pent  its  action  in  repudiating  its  obligations." 

The  other  listened  mechanically.  He  remembered  the 
little  hope  that  had  been  thrown  out  to  him  regarding 
such  a  contingency — a  recent  discouraging  conversation 
at  his  club  with  the  president  of  one  of  the  largest  banks. 

"I  don't  believe  it !"  he  exclaimed  warmly. 

Mr.  Strong  smiled ;  he  even  placed  his  great  hand  on 
the  frail  old  gentleman's  shoulder. 

"You  are  a  poor  salesman  of  your  wares !"  he  said  not 


146  BLACK  FRIDAY 

unkindly.  "But  I  don't  ask  you  to  believe  it.  I'm  will- 
ing to  take  the  chance — if  you'll  take  the  chance  and  sell 
for — fifty  cents  on  the  dollar." 

Mr.  Bossiter  turned  red ;  his  heart  gave  a  sudden  throb 
of  delight.  To  recover  half  of  that  disastrous  invest- 
ment !  It  was  beyond  his  wildest  dreams !  Perhaps  it 
would  silence  Mrs.  Eossiter's  reproaches ;  perhaps — 

"Of  course/'  went  on  the  measured  voice  of  Ei chard 
Strong,  "in  the  event  of  the  state's  experiencing  the 
prickings  of  conscience,  you  would  lose  half  the  original 
investment." 

"I'd  rather  be  sure  of  half  than  take  such  remote 
chances  on  the  whole,"  cried  the  old  gentleman,  eagerly. 
"I  accept  your  offer,  and  with  thanks — that  is,  if  you 
really  think" — he  could  not  help  adding,  half -guiltily — 
"there  is  a  prospect  of  the  bonds  being  paid  some  day  ?" 

His  listener  apparently  did  not  hear  this  implied  ques- 
tion, or,  if  he  heard,  chose  not  to  answer.  "Bring  them 
around  any  time,"  he  said,  "and  I'll  give  you  a  check 
for  them." 

"I  can  run  over  to  the  trust  company  and  get  them 
now,"  said  the  other. 

On  his  way  to  the  trust  company  Mr.  Rossiter  seemed 
walking  on  air.  The  street  of  little  interest  became  a 
thoroughfare  of  good  cheer  and  exhilaration.  Pie  smiled 
on  the  solid-looking  fronts  and  uninviting  entrances.  In 


ME.  KOSSITEE  VISITS  THE  STEEET     147 

the  vault  of  the  trust  company,  which  he  presently  en- 
tered, he  regarded  the  once  despised  bonds  with  glances 
of  new  affection. 

"After  all,  it  wasn't  such  a  bad  investment,"  he  said 
to  himself.  And  in  the  corridor,  where  he  a  moment 
later  encountered  a  grave-looking  gentleman — "I've  sold 
them,  Mr.  Brownson !"  he  exclaimed.  "Those  southern 
state  bonds  you  remember  advising  me  were  of  no  value 
whatever !" 

The  grave-looking  gentleman  stared  at  him. 

"Sold  them !"  he  repeated  incredulously.  "You  are 
joking !" 

"Not  a  bit  of  it !"  cried  Mr.  Eossiter.  "And  to  a  man 
who  knows  what  such  things  are  worth !" 

"Bless  my  soul !';'  remarked  the  grave-looking  gentle- 
man, as  the  other  departed  with  the  bonds  safely  but- 
toned up  in  a  pocket  of  his  coat.  "What  can1  it  mean  ? 
Who  can  want  them  ?  I  should  have  thought  I  could  as 
easily  sell  Confederate  money." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

A  DAT  FOR  REFLECTION 

If  Mr.  Eossiter  had  apprehended  that  the  ties  that 
bound  his  daughter  to  him  would  he  weakened  under 
the  new  conditions  of  her  life,  he  was  doomed  to 
agreeable  disappointment.  On  the  contrary,  the  bond  be- 
tween them  seemed  to  become  stronger,  and,  at  this  pe- 
riod, they  were  often  seen  together.  The  social  season 
in  town  had  long  since  waned,  and  had  been  succeeded 
by  nature's  festal  season.  The  blossoms  of  spring  had 
become  the  full-perfumed  flowers  of  early  summer;  they 
bloomed  in  park  and  garden  and  threw  their  redolence, 
as  far  as  might  be,  out  over  the  dusty  city.  The  air  still 
retained  a  freshness,  but  the  crimson  sun,  sinking  every 
night  in  a  blaze  of  glory,  gave  promise  of  sultry  days 
to  come. 

Calling,  on  the  morning  after  his  visit  to  Wall  Street, 
at  his  daughter's  home,  Mr.  Rossiter  was  shown  into  the 
great  drawing-room.  While  waiting  for  Elinor  to  ap- 
pear, he  critically  examined  the  pictures  with  which  the 
walls  were  adorned.  From  the  painted  canvases  he 
148 


A  DAY  FOR  REFLECTION  149 

passed  on  to  his  own  reflection,  as  depicted  in  the  pier 
glass  which  ran  from  floor  to  ceiling.  As  he  stood,  a 
fine  aristocratic  figure,  casually  surveying  himself,  his 
daughter  entered. 

Pausing  at  the  threshold  to  draw  on  her  gloves,  she 
could  not  but  notice  the  expression  of  satisfaction  on  his 
thin  features.  He  was  half-smiling  while  adjusting  his 
white  mustache,  as  if  his  ruminations  were  far  from  an 
unpleasing  character. 

"Good  morning,  papa !" — and  she  stood,  a  tall  form  in 
hlue  by  his  side. 

"Good  morning,  my  dear !  I  see  you  are  ready  for  a 
walk." 

Still  holding  her  hand,  he  surveyed  her. 

"How  well  you  are  looking !" 

"And  you,"  she  laughed  quickly,  though  with  some 
constraint,  "I  never  saw  you  looking  younger,  or  in  bet- 
ter spirits !" 

"To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  never  felt  better !"  he  an- 
swered. "A  little  business  matter,  my  dear,  that  has  ter- 
minated— well,  rather  better  than  we  thought!  But  I 
will  tell  you  about  it  as  we  go  along." 

"Suppose  we  go  into  the  park,  and  you  can  tell  me 
about  it  there,"  she  said  almost  gaily. 

Mr.  Rossiter  assented,  and  in  a  few  moments  they  de- 
scended together  the  formidable  array  of  steps  leading 


150  BLACK  FRIDAY 

into  the  street.  Within  the  little  garden,  the  distant 
rumbling  of  the  busy  thoroughfare  sounded  like  the 
monotonous  breaking  of  the  surf,  its  pulsations  steady, 
deep,  apparently  never-ending. 

"Well,  papa?" 

She  was  bending  over  a  flowering  bush  and  he  with 
well-pleased  eyes  had  been  watching  her,  but  at  her  words 
he  started. 

"Bless  me,  I  had  nearly  forgotten !" 

Elinor  looked  up. 

"Confess,"  she  said,  as  they  strolled  down  the  path, 
"you  were  thinking  of  some  favorite  verses  ?" 

"As  to  that,"  he  answered,  "one  never  gets  too  old  for 
poetry." 

"Some  never  care  for  it/'  she  returned  thoughtfully. 

"Never  care  for  it !"  he  expostulated.  "What  heresy !" 
— and  proceeded  to  tell  her  of  the  message  he  had  re- 
ceived from  Richard  Strong,  the  visit  to  Wall  Street,  and 
the  result  of  their  interview. 

She  listened  attentively,  but  said  nothing ;  only  looked 
at  him  earnestly  and  appeared  to  be  thinking  deeply. 

"I  don't  think  much  of  the  bonds  myself  for  a  ven- 
ture," continued  Mr.  Rossiter,  cheerily,  "but  I  notice 
that  in  the  Journal  of  Commerce  several  firms  are  bid- 
ding fifty  for  them  to-day." 

"Is  that— what  you  ^old  them  for?" 


A  DAY  FOR  REFLECTION  1.11 

'•'Yes;  Mr.  Strong  undoubtedly  bought  them  for  a 
speculation.  Well,  I  hope  they  will  go  higher !  Good- 
ness knows,  /  was  glad  enough  to  get  them  off  my  hands 
at  any  price !" 

"Speculation  ?"  Elinor  felt  sure  Richard  Strong  was 
opposed  to  all  that  the  word  implied.  What  then  had 
moved  him  to  buy  this  questionable  southern  paper? 
She  pursed  her  brow;  she  wanted  time  to  think;  here 
it  seemed  impossible;  perhaps  out  on  the  noisy  streets — 

"Of  course,"  she  said  hastily,  "in  a  matter  like  this 
Mr.  Strong  probably  considered  both  sides  carefully. 
But  our  walk,  papa — we  must  not  miss  that !" 

He  swung  his  cane  lightly.  "N"o,  indeed !"  he  as- 
sented, following  her  down  the  path. 

So  many  people  wore  out  and  the  thoroughfares 
appeared  so  animated,  Mr.  Rossiter  did  not  observe  his 
daughter's  subsequent  preoccupation.  Moreover,  she  un- 
consciously walked  a  little  faster  than  usual,  and  the  old 
gentleman,  in  adapting  his  step  to  hers,  found  the  brisk 
exercise  not  entirely  conducive  to  conversation.  Accord- 
ingly, he  contented  himself  with  bowing  here  and  there, 
with  occasional  comments  on  the  people  they  met. 

To  these  and  other  passing  remarks  she  answered  me- 
chanically. She  remembered  she  had  once,  in  her  solici- 
tude for  her  father,  referred  to  the  bonds  in  a  seemingly 
careless  manner  to  Mr.  Strong  and  that  his  reply  had 


153  BLACK  FKIDAY 

been  non-committal.  He  did  not  know  exactly  what 
they  were  worth  or  whether  they  could  be  sold. 

As  she  reviewed  this  incident,  suddenly  her  face  be- 
came tinted  with  color ;  her  heart  beat  a  little  faster.  She 
felt  both  humiliated  and  annoyed. 

But  this  feeling  soon  passed.  Her  father  had  said 
several  firms  were  bidding  on  the  bonds  to-day.  That 
would  seem  to  indicate  a  radical  change  of  sentiment 
toward  them.  It  did  not  occur  to  Elinor  that  this  brief 
revival  of  interest  might  be  coincident  with  the  report 
that  Eichard  Strong  had'  bought  these  securities,  and 
that  certain  people  were  willing  to  follow  blindly  in  his 
footsteps,  attaching  some  deep  significance  and  secret 
source  of  information  to  his  action.  Yet  even  while  thus 
endeavoring  to  reassure  her  pride,  she  also  felt  intu- 
itively that  he  had  not  been  influenced  by  selfish  mo- 
tives. He  had  undoubtedly  acted  with  Mr.  Rossiters 
welfare  in  view;  conscientiously — not — 

"My  dear!" 

She  turned ;  Mr.  Rossiter's  hand  touched  her  arm ;  big 
face  wore  a  whimsical  expression. 

"My  dear,"  he  repeated;  "I'm  afraid  I — am  growing 
old !" 

"Oh,"  she  said,  with  sudden  compunction.  And  added 
after  a  moment :  "Papa,  promise  me  you  won't  have  any 
more  business  dealings  with  Mr.  Strong." 


A  DAY  FOE  REFLECTION  153 

He  regarded  her  in  a  puzzled  manner,  then  laughed 
easily. 

"I  don't  think  there  is  much  likelihood  of  my  becom- 
ing involved  in  many  business  transactions.  My  affairs 
now  are  very  simple  and  I  won't  trouble  Mr.  Strong 
about  them.  I  am  not  sorry  I  mentioned  the  bonds, 
though.  His  confidence  in  them  certainly  removed  a 
great  worry  from  my  mind — a  worry  that  has  been  caus- 
ing me  much  care  and  anxiety  of  late." 

She  looked  at  the  slight  debonair  figure. 

"You  ?"  she  said  with  the  playful  accent  of  incredulity 
she  used  to  bestow  upon  him. 

"If  I  hadn't  sold  those  bonds—"  He  paused.  "Cer- 
tainly it  was  most  opportune  for  your  mother  and  my- 
self." 

Her  eyes  clouded. 

"Which  reminds  me,"  he  went  on  suddenly,  "that  I 
have  an  engagement  at  Curet's  to  meet  your  mother." 

"Then  we  had  better  go  back,"  she  said  quietly. 

Upon  reaching  the  door  of  her  house,  he  hesitated  and 
regarded  her  almost  questioningly.  She  seemed  more 
subdued  than  when  they  had  set  out  together ;  again,  he 
vaguely  wondered  if  all  were  as  well  with  her  as  he  had 
fondly  imagined.  But  she  returned  his  glance  reassur- 
ingly and  he  forgot  his  incertitude  a*  he  moved  away. 

Elinor,  standing  a  moment  on  the  steps,  heard  the 


154  BLACK  F1UDAY 

postman's  voice,  and  taking  the  letters  he  handed  her, 
reentered  the  house.  Sorting  out  the  missives — some 
for  Mr.  Strong,  a  few  for  herself — she  slowly  mounted 
the  broad  staircase  to  her  own  sitting-room.  She  seated 
herself  at  her  desk  and  glanced  at  the  messages.  One 
of  these — which  bore  on  the  envelope  the  picture  of  a 
mammoth  hotel — she  opened.  It  was  from  Posie  Stan- 
ton  and  postmarked  Newport. 

"My  darling" — Posie  was  nothing,  if  not  extravagant 
in  her  mode  of  expression — "all  the  world  is  here — that 
is,  the  feminine  part  of  it!  Man,  'the  crowning  wonder 
of  creation/  alone  is  absent.  Still  there's  no  time  for  re- 
pining! We  dress  and  undress  and  dress  again.  The 
bathing  costumes  are  as  ridiculous  as  ever,  and  mine 
makes  me  look  like  an  inflated  balloon.  You  can  imag- 
ine, having  that  effect  on  poor  little  me,  what  such  a 
dress  looks  like  when  it  adorns  middle-aged  embon- 
point—" 

The  letter  dropped  from  Elinor's  hand;  at  that  mo- 
ment even  Posie's  vivacious  style  palled  upon  her.  She 
arose ;  took  off  her  hat  and  laid  it  on  the  bed ;  picked  it 
up  again  and'  gazed  at  it  contemplatively.  Then,  sinking 
into  a  chair  near  the  window,  she  robbed  the  offending 
bit  of  millinery  of  a  flower.  The  result  pleased  her  no 
better;  the  light  fingers  ceased  to  desecrate  the  modish 


A  DAY  FOE  REFLECTION  153 

creation  of  Madame  Camille.  Once  more  she  turned  to 
Posie's  missive : 

"Of  course  we  have  seen  in  the  papers  all  about  Mr, 
Strong,  and  D.  B.  and  C.  Papa  says  he  is  grand — the 
highest  type  of  the  real  couldn't-fail-if-he-wanted-to 
American — or  something  like  that — " 

This  time  Elinor  resolutely  perused  the  missive  to  the 
end,  italics  and  all,  even  its  three  postscripts  scribbled 
sidewise  on  the  various  pages.  Then  she  pushed  back 
her  chair. 

The  day  promised  to  be  a  long  one,  especially  as  she 
felt  a  disinclination  for  the  usual  attractions  of  the  outer 
world.  She  thought  of  reading,  but  books,  lately,  had 
seemed  inadequate  to  her  needs.  Passively  she  watched 
the  sunlight  creeping — creeping,  so  slowly — along  the 
floor. 

How  quiet  the  house  was !  How  quiet  and  large  and 
— almost  tenantless,  it  seemed !  The  upper  hall,  too, 
looked  very  dark,  as  she  now  stole  along  it,  pausing  be- 
fore Eichard  Strong's  private  study.  The  door  was  ajar 
and  she  entered,  placing  the  letters  that  were  addressed 
to  him  on  the  mantel. 

The  room  was  fair-sized  yet  almost  devoid  of  orna- 
mentation. Upon  a  great  desk  were  many  papers,  a 
lamp,  an  ash-tray  and  a  box  of  cigars.  The  papers  she 
glanced  at  without  disturbing  their  arrangement.  They 


156  BLACK  FRIDAY 

were  full  of  technicalities  and  legal  phrases  she  did  not 
understand.  The  ash-tray  then  absorbed  her  attention; 
it  had  not  yet  been  cleaned  and  she  counted  the  cigars 
he  had  smoked  the  night  before.  He  had  once  told  her 
it  was  not  his  practice  as  a  rule  to  consider  business  dur- 
ing certain  hours  for  rest  in  the  evening.  She  did  not 
believe  he  ever  allowed  himself  any  relaxation  of  late. 

A  small  case  contained  a  number  of  books.  She  had 
never  looked  to  see  what  they  were,  but  she  did  now  and 
discovered  that,  for  the  most  part,  the  volumes  consisted 
of  government  and  state  reports;  legislative  manuals; 
documents  pertaining  to  railroad  and  mining  commis- 
sions, and  kindred  literature.  Among  that  grim,  sta- 
tistical company,  with  their  dusty  backs  and  funereal 
bindings,  not  a  single  volume  of  fiction  or  verse  had 
crept  in  to  alleviate  the  severe  usefulness  of  those  un- 
inviting shelves. 

Upon  the  case  stood  a  small,  but  perfect,  model  of  a 
locomotive  which  she  regarded  contemplatively.  It  was 
made  of  silver  and  gold  and  a  tiny  plate,  beneath  the 
miniature  headlight,  said  something  about  its  being  a 
presentation  from  some  friendly-disposed  fellow  di- 
rectors. 

Affixed  to  the  standard  upon  which  it  rested  was  a 
stanza  of  the  poem  by  Fitz-James  O'Brien,  on  the  real, 
live  monster  this  dainty  toy  was  a  tiny  copy  of. 

That   Richard  Strong  treasured   the  model  and   the 


A  DAY  FOE  KEFLECTION  157 

sentiment  it  represented,  was  evident  from  the  conspicu- 
ous place  it  occupied.  So,  she  told  herself,  he  did  see 
poetry  in  certain  phases  of  life.  To  his  virile  mind,  real 
things,  commonplace  matters,  were  poems.  The  imagin- 
ation of  the  inventor  was  the  inspiration  of  his  muse;  his 
rhymesters  beat  with  hammers. 

With  hands  clasped  behind  her,  she  stood  still.  Her 
conception  of  existence  seemed  all  at  once  aimless,  inde- 
terminate ! 

After  lingering  a  few  moments  longer  in  his  study,  she 
returned  to  her  own  sitting-room.  Certain  little  sins  of 
omission  in  their  domestic  economy  she  resolutely  began 
to  repair  and  in  a  sudden  fervor  of  alertness  and  atten- 
tion to  detail,  she  found  that  comparative  forgetfulness 
she  courted. 

The  neglected  ash-tray  was  the  starting  point.  The 
deposition,  examination  and  testimony  regarding  this 
crime  of  carelessness;  the  summoning  of  witnesses  di- 
rectly and  indirectly  concerned,  were  antidotes  to  her 
disquietude.  She  abruptly  developed  into  a  despot,  and 
her  subjects — or  servitors — with  consternation  discov- 
ered that  her  regime  promised  to  lack  that  supineness 
they  at  first  had  fondly  looked  for. 

At  nightfall  as  she  dressed  for  dinner,  the  morning's 
conversation  with  her  father  again  took  possession  of  her 
thoughts.  She  wanted  to  question  Mr.  Strong ;  she  half- 


158  BLACK  FRIDAY 

intended  to  do  so,  and  yet  the  desire  was  not  unmixed 
with  reluctance.  Pride  and  humiliation  strove  within 
her;  she  shrank  from  asking,  half-fearing  her  doubts 
might  be  realized.  One  moment  her  pride  was  up  in 
arms;  the  next  moment  disarmed  by  a  new  and  softer 
feeling. 

The  dinner  hour  seemed  long  in  coming;  she  listened 
with  impatience  for  his  step  at  the  door.  But  finally  he 
came — somewhat  late — and  she  went  down  to  dinner,  her 
heart  beating  a  little  fast.  Neither  she  nor  Eichard 
Strong  had  ever  much  to  say  during  that  ceremonial  oc- 
casion. Perhaps  the  high  walls  and  massive  style  of  in- 
terior architecture  of  the  room  threw  a  depressing  influ- 
ence upon  them.  Perhaps  the  titanic  and  merry  ban- 
queting figures  in  the  gay  tapestries  made  man  and  wife 
seem  very  small  and  quiet  in  that  apartment,  designed 
for  the  reception  of  a  goodly  company. 

Leaning  her  head  on  her  hand,  she  looked  furtively  at 
him  from  time  to  time.  Her  gown  was  white  and  gauzy 
and  above  the  mist  of  lace-work,  a  string  of  pearls  en- 
circled her  neck.  Over  her  shoulders  fell  a  gold-brown 
curl,  as  if  to  emphasize  the  tender  whiteness  of  its  rest- 
ing-place. The  glimmer  of  her  eyes  was  bright  like  the 
sheen  of  the  pearls. 

"The  Stantons  are  at  Newport,"  she  said  at  length. 

"A  great  many  people  are,"  he  answered. 


A  DAY  FOR  REFLECTION          .       159 

A  brief  silence  !  In  the  soft  light  from  the  chandelier 
his  face  did  not,  perhaps,  appear  as  harsh  as  usual.  Or 
did  it  really  seem  harsh  to  her  at  all?  Her  father  was 
the  weak  point  in  her  heart ;  Richard  Strong  had  touched 
that  point.  He  had  been  of  service  to  him.  Unwit- 
tingly, perhaps ;  but  she  did  not  pause  now  to  analyze  or 
canvass  his  reasons. 

"It  must  be  very  gay  at  the  sea-shore,  or  soon  will  be," 
she  went  on. 

"Do  you  want  to  go  ?"  he  asked  suddenly. 

She  hesitated,  looked  at  him  quickly;  then  shook  her 
head. 

"No,  I  don't  care  to,"  she  answered  slowly. 

Her  fingers  played  with  the  fork  while  she  gazed  at, 
and  yet  beyond,  an  old  Dutch  still-life  on  the  wall;  a 
cornucopia,  or  horn  of  plenty,  overrunning  with  a  pro- 
fusion of  fruits,  grapes  and  flowers. 

"Do  you  know  Mr.  Stanton  ?"  she  said  after  a  pause. 

"No,"  he  replied.    "Why  do  you  ask  ?" 

"Oh,  not  for  any  special  reason,"  she  returned  vaguely. 
"I  thought  perhaps  you  might !" 

He  offered  no  comment;  only  lighted  his  cigar,  and 
began  smoking  methodically.  Her  gaze  impatiently  fol- 
lowed the  butler  as  he  moved  noiselessly  around  the 
table,  but  at  length  he  vanished,  and  they  found  them- 
selves alone.  She  leaned  back;  a  question  that  had 


'EL60  BLACK  FEIDAY 

framed  itself  in  her  mind  trembled  on  her  lips ;  she  was 
about  to  speak  when  the  chimes  of  the  tall  clock  began  to 
strike.  He  looked  at  his  watch,  laid  down  his  cigar  and 
arose. 

"You  are  going  out  ?"  she  asked  quickly. 
"There  is  a  business  meeting  at  the  St.  Nicholas !" 
Her  face  shadowed.    "It  must  be  nice  to  be  a  man  and 
have — business  meetings !"    As  ehe  spoke,  she,  too,  arose 
and  stood   leaning  with   her   hand    against    the   table. 
<fYour  meeting  is  very  important?" 

"Very."    He  regarded  her  with  mild  surprise.     Her 
jnanner  puzzled  him.     She  seemed  to-night  as  she  had 
been  when  he  had  first  known  her ;  she,  of  late,  so  proud 
and  still ! 
,      '"Was  there  anything—" 

"No,  nothing !"  she  answered  hastily. 
•     He  caught  her  eyes  and  started;  then  turned  abrupt- 
ly, even  bruskly  away.    A  few  moments  later  she  heard 
the  front  door  close  and  a  carriage  drive  off. 

Going  to  the  window  of  the  reception-room,  she  looked 
after  it  until  it. disappeared.  In  the  semi-darkness,  her 
mind  swept  rapidly  over  the  brief-long  period  of  her 
married  life.  In  that  short  month  and  more  how  often 
had  rebellion  sprung  into  her  breast ! 

"I  won't  endure  it ;  I  won't  endure  it !"  she  had  said  to 
herself,  but  had  ended  by  temporizing  with  the  future. 


A  DAY  FOR  REFLECTION  161 

She  was  temporizing  now.  With  sudden  lassitude  she 
passed  her  hand  across  her  forehead.  About  her  were 
trailing  shadows ;  the  heavy  perfume  of  many  roses  hung 
over  one  of  the  great  vases  and  she  leaned  her  head 
against  it. 

The  sound  of  the  front  door-bell  was  heard;  she  half- 
turned  and  listened;  a  familiar  voice  inquired  for  Mrs, 
Strong. 

<<rYes ;  I'm  home,  Cousin  Charlie !"  she  said  herself, 
and  stepping  toward  the  hall,  Elinor  the  next  moment 
clasped  the  hand  of  Charlie  Dalton. 

"Just  dropped  in  to  see  how  you  were  getting  on,"  he 
said.  "Hope  I'm  not  disturbing  you  ?" 

"Not  at  all !"  she  answered  quickly.    "I  am  delighted." 

Her  face  looked  a  little  flushed  as  she  raised  it  to  his. 

"Won't  you  come  into  the  library  ?" 


CHAPTEE  XIV 

ELINOR  MAKES  A  KESOLUTION 

"Are  you  alone  F  said  Dalton,  as  they  entered  a 
brightly-lighted  room  on  the  other  side  of  the 
hall. 

"Yes;  Mr.  Strong  went  out  on  business.  But  why 
haven't  you  been  here  before  ?"  she  hastened  to  add. 

The  young  man  hesitated,  a  touch  of  constraint  in  his 
manner. 

"Eeally,  I  haven't  any  excuse  except — " 

"No  excuse  is  better  than  a  poor  one,"  she  interrupted, 
and  dropped  lightly  into  a  chair.  "So  never  mind  about 
taxing  your  ingenuity." 

"Well,  I  won't  then,"  said  Charlie,  with  a  faint  laugh, 
and  drew  a  cigar  from  his  pocket.  "You  don't  object?" 
— indicating  the  weed.  "You  never  used  to." 

"There  are  the  matches — on  the  table,"  she  said,  and 
settled  herself  more  comfortably  in  the  large  leather 
chair.  "But  what  have  you  been  doing  with  yourself?" 
she  added,  regarding  him  with  something  of  the  half- 
proprietary  air  of  the  past. 

162 


ELINOR  MAKES   A   RESOLUTION       163 

"Not  much/'  he  answered.  "You  knew  that  I  went 
into  Mr.  Strong's  office  a  while  ago?" 

She  nodded. 

"That  has  meant  a  good  deal  to  me,"  he  said.  "It 
came  just  at  the  right  time,  too."  He  was  silent  a  mo- 
ment, smoking  thoughtfully.  Elinor  studied  the  hand- 
some face  before  her. 

"How — how  did  you  happen  to  go  into  Mr.  Strong's 
office  ?"  she  at  length  asked,  rather  hesitatingly. 

Charlie  proceeded  to  relate  to  her  the  substance  of  the 
interview  he  had  had  with  Eichard  Strong. 

"But  hasn't  he  ever  spoken  to  you  about  it  ?"  he  added, 
as  he  concluded,  an  inquiring  look  in  his  dark-blue  eyes. 

Elinor  colored  a  little.  "Not  just  how — how  it  hap- 
pened to  come  about." 

"Perhaps  he  likes  to  leave  the  talk  of  the  Street  be- 
hind him,"  suggested  Charlie,  still  searching  her  with 
his  glance. 

"The  Street !"  she  exclaimed,  quickly  turning  the  con- 
versation. "What  a  veiled  mystery !  Do  women  ever  go 
there?" 

An  ironical  smile  crossed  the  other's  face.  "Yes — 
sometimes !  Spiritualistic  mediums  and  war-widows, 
for  example!  The  commodore,  you  know,"  he  added, 
"has  a  special  medium,  although,  for  my  part,  I  don't 


164  BLACK  FRIDAY 

think  the  psychic  force  had  much  to  do  with  his  corner- 
ing Hudson  or  Harlem." 

"All  that  men  seem  to  think  about  nowadays  is — • 
stocks !"  she  observed  somewhat  irrelevantly. 

"And  women — Stewart's  I" 

She  lifted  her  brows,  smoothing  down  her  dress  re- 
flectively with  her  hand. 

"The  men  have  their  Exchange  and  the  women — - 
theirs  !"  went  on  Dalton,  sententiously. 

Her  foot  moved  with  sudden  impatience.  "You  mean 
all  women  think  of  is — spending  money  ?" 

He  held  his  cigar  in  mid  air.  "Her  first,  sole  and 
only  ambition !" 

The  flashing  brown  eyes  met  the  satirical  blue  ones. 

"It  seems  to  me  I  heard  of  some  one  at  college  who 
started  very  rapidly  to  get  rid  of  all  he  had." 

Charlie's  face  perceptibly  changed.  "There  wasn't 
much  to  get  rid  of/'  he  said.  "Some  one  else  did  the 
disencumbering." 

She  laughed  rather  revengefully.  "I  suppose  it  would 
have  been  just  the  same  in  the  end." 

He  did  not  answer,  and  rising  abruptly,  she  took  a,  few 
steps  across  the  room. 

"How  would  you  like  a  little  music  ?" 

Charlie  got  up,  too. 

"By  all  means !    But  you're  not  impatient  with  me  ? 


ELIXOR  MAKES   A   RESOLUTION       165 

Though  that  would  be  very  like  old  times !  As  a  small 
girl  you  always  had  your  own  way/'  he  added  reflectively. 

"Did  I  ?" 

"Bather !    Bemember  the  day  we  eloped  ?" 

He  stood  by  her  side  now,  her  head  on  a  level  with  his 
shoulder.  She  smiled  up  at  him. 

"Eloped?    With  you?" 

He  overlooked  the  emphasis. 

"You  must  have  been  about  ten;  you  were  angry  at 
some  one — your  mother,  I  think — and  wanted  to  run 
away  from  home.  So  we  started — I  didn't  seem  to  have 
much  to  say  about  it — only  to  go  along — you  were  on 
my  sled  and  I  was  drawing  you — we  came  to  a  snowdrift 
and  you  fell  into  it — " 

"And  you,"  she  interrupted,  "ran  away  of  course  and. 
left  me  !  But  now— what  shall  I  play  ?" 

He  followed  her  to  the  piano.  "There  was  that  Gott- 
schalk  piece — " 

She  ran  her  fingers  lightly  over  the  keyboard.  "Yes, 
that's  it,"  he  said. 

Leaning  on  the  piano,  he  watched  her.  The  light  from 
the  lamp  fell  full  on  her  face;  the  down-turned  lashes 
veiled  her  eyes,  but  although  the  white  fingers  scampered 
merrily  enough,  her  features  expressed  no  answering 
emotion.  In  the  midst  of  an  unusually  brilliant  varia- 
tion, she  hesitated. 


166  BLACK  FKIDAY 

"I  think  I've  forgotten  the  rest/'— and  Gottschalk 
merged  into  Chopin. 

For  a  few  moments  she  played  with  new  feeling  and 
ahandon ;  then  her  hands  stopped  again  upon  the  keys. 

"I  don't  believe  I  am  very  musical,"  she  said  ca- 
priciously, and  arose. 

Charlie  started.    "I  never  heard  you  play  better." 

She  regarded  him  incredulously. 

He  drew  at  his  cigar ;  then  held  it  out  with  a  smile. 

"Isn't  this  a  convincing  bit  of  evidence?  It's  gone 
out." 

Quickly  she  went  to  the  mantel.  " After  such  a  com- 
pliment— 3 

The  sentence  remained  unfinished  in  words,  but  se- 
lecting a  match,  she  struck  it  and  crossed  to  him.  Above 
the  flame,  he  looked  at  her,  and  a  sudden  light  seemed  to 
kindle  his  eyes ;  their  hands  just  touched. 

"Thank  you !"  he  said. 

For  some  time  Charlie  lingered.  He  smoked  not  one, 
but  three  cigars,  and,  although  he  exerted  his  own  con- 
versational powers,  Elinor's  vivacity  of  the  earlier  part 
of  the  evening  seemed  to  desert  her.  At  length  he  arose. 

"I  must  really  be  off,"  he  said.  "I  left  Tom  Marks 
waiting  for  me  at  the  club." 

Once  on  the  street,  however,  the  young  man  did  not 
show  any  disposition  to  hasten  to  his  destination.  He 


ELIXOR   MAKES   A   RESOLUTION"       167 

sauntered  along  slowly,  his  brows  knit,  switching  now 
and  then  absent-mindedly  with  his  cane.  The  thought- 
ful expression  of  his  face  changed  by  degrees  to  one  of 
irritation.  His  cane  cut  the  air  sharply.  "I'll  go  there 
no  more/'  he  said  suddenly,  aloud,  and  with  a  quick,  de- 
cisive movement,  he  hastened  his  steps. 

After  Dalton  had  gone  and  Elinor  returned  to  the 
library,  that  lowness  of  spirits  she  had  experienced  before 
he  came  seemed  intensified.  And  with  it  came  a  certain 
impatience.  She  looked  at  the  clock;  Richard  Strong 
was  out  later  than  usual.  She  wondered  what  he  was 
doing.  The  business  conference  must  have  been  unusu- 
ally important  to  have  detained  him  so  long. 

In  spite  of  the  hour,  she  felt  wakeful.  Near  the  win- 
dow the  curtains  moved  slowly  to  and  fro,  as  if  some  un- 
seen hand  were  waving  them  to  attract  her  attention. 
She  half -smiled,  as  the  fantasy  moved  her ;  then  holding 
her  head  a  little  higher  in  seeming  disdain  of  ghostly 
signs  and  tokens,  she  walked  to  the  curtains  and  looped 
them  up.  Immediately  all  portentous  indications  ceased ; 
the  room  relapsed  into  its  normal  conditions,  and  with 
its  many  shelves  became  simply  a  place  for  study  and  re- 
flection. 

Elinor,  however,  moving  restlessly  around  the  library, 
looked  with  indifference,  if  not  distaste,  upon  the  pon- 
derous volumes  entombed  in  red  levant  or  gilded  calf. 
Finally  she  paused  with  an  air  of  dissatisfaction. 


168  BLACK  FKIDAY 

"I  wonder  what  people  do  when  they  want  to  do 
something  and  don't  know  how  to  do  it,"  she  thought  im- 
patiently, as  she  leaned  against  the  arm  of  the  leather 
chair  and  mechanically  turned  over  some  engravings  in 
a  portfolio  on  a  stand  before  her.  With  scant  interest 
at  first,  her  eye  attracted  while  her  mind  remained  afar, 
she  surveyed  a  medieval  picture — an  armed  man  and  a 
maiden!  The  vizor  of  the  former's  helmet  was  down; 
nothing  could'  be  seen  of  his  face.  Beneath  the  engrav- 
ing was  written  in  script: 

"Tine  buckling  on  of  the  knight's  armor  by  the  lady's 
hand  was  not  a  mere  caprice  of  romantic  fashion.  It  is 
the  type  of  an  eternal  truth — " 

Elinor  fell  casually  to  wondering  what  the  man  would 
look  like  if  the  helmet  should  be  removed  and  the  war- 
rior shorn  of  his  iron  suit.  Would  the  face  be  handsome ; 
the  figure,  a  gallant  one?  A  knight  on  his  first  quest, 
perhaps  with  golden  hair  and  chivalrous  eyes  ?  Or  would 
there  be  revealed  the  countenance  of  the  hardy,  tried  sol- 
dier? 

More  likely  the  latter  by  the  breadth  of  shoulder !  She 
felt  amused  at  the  incongruity  between  the  two  figures  in 
this  highly  sentimental  picture  and  then  found  herself 
looking  at  her  own  hands.  She  wondered  if  it  would  be 
very  difficult  to  '^buckle  on  armor."  The  thought  seized 
her  that  the  enigmatic  iron  shell  might  have  hidden  some 
one  like — Eichard  Strong! 


ELIXOK  MAKES  A  RESOLUTION       169 

She  clasped  her  hands  and  looked  away.  That  grim, 
steel  puzzle;  the  slender  lady — were  they  symbolical  of 
life  ?  How  absurd !  She  shut  up  the  portfolio. 

Sinking  back  into  the  chair,  she  closed  her  eyes. 

"I  suppose/'  she  told  herself,  "I  might  make  myself,  in 
some  degree  or  measure,  useful  to  him !"  And  with  the 
thought  came  the  conviction,  that,  however  small  or  great 
the  result,  she  owed  it  to  herself  to  act  upon  it.  The  tiny 
monitor  thrilled  within  her  breast;  pride  whispered 
hopeful  possibilities.  A  sudden  resolution  animated  her ; 
her  days  need  be  no  longer  aimlessly  wasted.  She  would 
equip  herself  in  knowledge;  establish  between  her  hus- 
band and  herself  a  bond  of  mutual  helpfulness.  Other 
•women  had  done  so.  Why  could  not  she  succeed?  She 
felt  her  limitations  for  the  task,  but  at  the  moment  they 
seemed  only  a  spur  to  her  purpose. 

And  a  sudden  peace  came  over  her — or  was  it  weari- 
ness ?  She  vaguely  realized  that  she  was  dozing,  and  did 
not  car,e;  that  the  knight  had  begun  to  take  off  his  hel- 
met, but  she  could  not  see  him  because  of  a  cloud.  The 
drooping  of  her  head  aroused  her,  and,  with  an  effort, 
she  arose  and  went  up  stairs. 


CHAPTER  XV 

ELINOR  BREAKS  A  RESOLUTION 

Secretly  Elinor  began  to  familiarize  herself  with 
her  husband's  business;  to  study  the  history  of  the 
great  commercial  highways;  from  reports  she  found 
on  his  desk  at  the  house;  by  judicious  inquiry, — 
indeed,  as  best  she  might !  And  studying  all  this,  she 
was  unconsciously  studying  Eichard  Strong.  His  nature 
unfolded  beneath  her  eyes  as  the  manifold  formation  of 
diatoms  to  the  peering  gaze  of  the  microscopist.  At 
times,  she  admired ;  again,  wondered.  A  hand  of  velvet ; 
an  arm  of  iron  !  The  power  to  create ;  the  ability  to  con- 
struct !  Was  it  all  genius,  or  tenacity  of  purpose — or  is 
the  former  but  the  latter?  These  surreptitious  visits  to 
his  study  began  to  exercise  a  peculiar  fascination  over 
her. 

She  was  further  stimulated  in  her  self-imposed  task 
along  these  special  lines  by  a  wave  of  popular  interest  in 
the  problems  of  transportation.  On  every  side  predomi- 
nated railroad  talk ;  leading  articles  in  all  the  papers  and 
magazines  devoted  much  space  to  the  consideration  of 
170 


ELINOR  BREAKS  A  RESOLUTION         171 

that  great  achievement,  the  final  opening  of  the  first 
highway  from  ocean  to  ocean.  Even  the  impressionable 
poets  broke  out  in  flowing,  if  not  always  metrically  cor- 
rect, measures : 

"Kivet  the  last  Pacific  rail 
With    a   silver   hammer   and   a   golden   nail, 
For  over  the  hill  and  over  the  vale 
The  iron  horse  is  swiftly  coming. 

Hail  to   the  age   of  steam! 

Hail  to  the  iron  team! 

Hail  to  the  iron  bars! 

Hail  to  our  flag  of   stars!" 

The  days  of  fresh  breezes  had  merged  into  a  period  of 
somnolence;  August,  slothful,  heavy,  began  to  drag  its 
weary  length  along.  The  hot  waking  hours  were  suc- 
ceeded by  the  sultry  nights,  when  the  languid  air  circu- 
lated, close  and  oppressive,  above  the  heated  pavements. 

On  such  a  night — or,  at  the  twilight  hour  of  such  a 
day — Elinor  was  seated  in  her  room  near  the  window, 
alternately  engaged  in  reading  and  gazing  dubiously 
without.  Over  a  patch  of  sky,  visible  from  her  window, 
hung  a  dull  bank  of  clouds  which  lightened  and  glowed, 
and  then  grew  dark  again.  This  operation,  repeated  at 
fairly  regular  intervals,  lent  a  menacing  aspect  to  the 
heavens  which  was  not  even  relieved  by  the  reassuring 
glimmer  of  a  single  star,  the  first  to  appear,  set  in  the 
lake  of  ether  at  the  foot  of  the  phosphorescent  bank. 


172  BLACK  FKIDAY 

But  while  her  mind  thus  concerned  itself  with  objec- 
tive phenomena,  her  thoughts  dwelt,  also,  upon  a  sub- 
ject she  knew  Kichard  Strong  was  then  considering;  a 
very  common  problem,  although  not  a  very  simple  one, 
in  railroad  management:  how  to  keep  the  expenses  of  a 
certain  line  from  outrunning  the  revenue.  She  asked 
herself  what  course  he  would  pursue.  First,  probably, 
would  come  repairs,  and  then  new  trains  and  tracks 
and — 

"I  can't  understand  it,"  she  pondered.  "Whenever 
things  seem  to  be  running  behind,  he  spends  more  mone}'. 
That's  the  way  mama  used  to  do,  and — it  didn't  seem  to 
.answer  at  all." 

She  pursed  her  brow  quizzically.  "It  must  be  that 
railroad  economy  is  different  from  domestic  economy. 
The  more  things  we  bought,  the  poorer  we  became." 

She  shook  her  head.  There  was  no  doubt  of  that. 
Then  her  mouth  relaxed.  "If  we  could  only  have  called 
our  debts — bonds!" 

"If" — she  was  continuing  to  follow  this  train  of  fancy 
when  the  voice  of  Mr.  Strong  in  his  study,  reaching  her 
ears,  abruptly  interrupted  the  trend  of  futile  imagining. 

"Have  I  not  told  yon  no  one  was  to  interfere  with  my 
papers  ?" 

"I  did  not  touch  them,  sir,"  she  heard  the  servant 
reply. 


ELINOR  BREAKS  A  RESOLUTION         175 

"One  document  is  missing !    What  has  become  of  it  ?" 

Elinor  dropped  the  book,  a  rush  of  blood  tingling  her 
cheeks,  and,  rising  hastily,  went  to  her  desk.  Taking  a 
paper,  tied  with  tape,  from  a  pigeonhole,  she  stepped 
into  the  hall  and  approached  the  door  of  the  private 
study.  Richard  Strong,  with  obvious  annoyance,  was 
bending  over  his  work-table;  in  the  center  of  the  room 
stood  the  servant,  expostulation  and  innocence  written 
on  his  face. 

"Is  this  what  you  are  looking  for  ?" 

He  took  with  some  surprise  the  paper  she  handed  him. 
"Yes,"  he  said.  And  to  the  servant :  "You  may  go." 

<CI  did   not  know   you  felt — that  way — about   your 
desk,"  she  went  on  hurriedl}',  when  the  man  had  disap- 
peared.   "Or  I" —  she  paused  with  heightened  color. 

"What  I  said  was,  of  course,  for  the  servant,"  he  re- 
turned. "If  you" — he  stopped  abruptly.  "But  why — 
what  could  you — " 

She  laughed  nervously,  feeling  almost  like  a  child  de- 
tected in  some  covert  act.  "Maybe,  I  was  a  little  curious 
• — prying,  you  probably  think  it — " 

He  made  a  quick,  dissenting  gesture.  "Well,  then  call 
it  only  curiosity.  Perhaps" — lightly — "it  interested  me, 
because  it  was  tied  up." 

Still  puzzled,  he  looked  at  her;  then  at  the  report. 
The  faintest  perfume  hung  over  it.  That  brief  sojourn 


174  BLACK  FRIDAY 

in  a  lady's  boudoir  had  changed  its  character ;  it  seemed 
to  have  become  more  personal  and  less  documentary  than 
formerly;  even  the  tape  was  tied  in  a  bow-knot,  emi- 
nently feminine.  What  interest  could  she  have  in  its 
contents,  — technicalities  pertaining  to  track  inspection ; 
the  examination  of  bridges,  grades  and  crossings;  the 
securing  of  connections  eastward? 

A  glimmer  of  light  in  the  heavens  suddenly  illumined 
the  room,  and,  following  the  flash,  the  dimness  of  the 
waning  day  appeared  abruptly  turned  into  the  darker 
shadows  of  night.  Her  face  for  the  moment  was  less  dis- 
cernible, but  he  had  seen  the  half -falter  ing  look,  empha- 
sized by  the  unexpected  irradiation. 

"Do  you  think  it  is  going  to  storm  ?"  she  asked  as,  ris- 
ing, he  drew  the  curtains,  and  lighted  the  gas. 

"I  think  so." 

"It  feels  as  though  it  might,"  she  said,  brushing  back 
the  masses  of  hair  from  her  moist  forehead.  Then 
she  walked  to  the  window  and  peered  out  behind  the 
draperies.  The  vaporous  bank  had  become  a  gloomy,  sul- 
len mountain;  the  lake  glowed  with  a  nameless,  mys- 
terious hue.  In  the  silence,  with  something  impending 
in  the  heavens,  she  experienced  a  stronger  need  of  human 
companionship.  Her  secret  aspirations  became  large  in 
her  breast;  the  temptation  to  touch  upon  them  grew  in 
the  silence. 


ELINOR  BREAKS  A  RESOLUTION         175 

"Mama  and  I  went  to  the  Sorosis  to-day/'  she  said 
finally,  without  turning. 

"The  Sorosis !"  he  spoke  tip  quickly. 

"Yes ;  mama,  you  know,  is  now  a  member." 

"And  follower  of  Lucy  Stone,  Ernestine  L.  Rose  and 
—Miss  Anthony?" 

"I  don't  know  as  she  goes — so  far  as  that.  I  think 
mama  likes  the  excitement."  She  was  silent  a  moment. 
"Don't  you  believe  in  some  of  those  things,  yourself  ?" 
she  asked  vaguely. 

He  glanced  at  the  girl ;  her  cheeks  were  flushed  with 
the  warmth  of  the  night;  her  eyes  bright.  His  own  gaze 
was  steady. 

"I  believe,"  he  returned,  "in  Dr.  Holmes'  words :  'The 
brain-women  never  interest  us  like  the  heart- women ; 
white  roses  please  less  than  the  red !'  " 

She  half-smiled.  "Alice  Gary  should  be  here  to  answer 
you  in  verse." 

"I  prefer  prose,"  he  said,  returning  to  his  report. 

"You  don't  want,  then,  to  see  women  striving  ?"  She 
faced  him  with  a  little  excitement  in  her  manner.  "To 
be  of  greater  service  to  themselves  and  to — to  others?" 
She  hesitated,  disconcerted  at  having  nearly  betrayed  her 
purpose.  She  did  not  want  him  to  know — yet — what 
had  been  in  her  mind.  "You  disapprove,"  she  added, 
with  forced  lightness,  "of  the  girl  of  the  period  ?" 


176  BLACK  FRIDAY 

The  mind  of  the  man  at  the  desk  caught  strongly  at 
her  last  words.  "The  Girl  of  the  Period  !"  A  cant  phrase 
on  the  street!  Only  that  day  the  copy  of  a  scurrilous 
London  paper  had  come  into  his  hands;  a  sheet  deserv- 
edly lampooned  by  Mr.  Greeley,  or  one  of  his  editors.  Be- 
fore Mr.  Strong's  eyes  flashed  the  cartoon :  "The  Croquet 
Girl?  "The  Nautical  Girl;"  "The  Girl  of  Finance!"  A 
puritanical  strain  in  his  nature  revolted ;  unwittingly  he 
thought  with  the  old  philosopher— a  woman's  greatest 
glory  was  to  he  little  talked  about. 

"  'The  girl  of  the  period !'  "  he  repeated  dryly.  "I 
have  no  taste  for  her." 

Her  lip  quivered  a  little;  his  coldness  cut  her;  the 
irony  of  his  voice  belittled  those  impulses  that  had  stirred 
her.  She  felt  as  if  she  had  offered  him  something  and 
he  had  rejected  the  free  gift — curtly,  bruskly !  Humility, 
mingled,  perhaps,  with  resentment,  moved  her.  She  bit 
her  lip  and  walked  toward  the  door. 

"You  are  very  busy,"  she  began,  and  would  have  gone, 
when  the  forces  of  the  storm  without,  marshaling  their 
energy,  smote  the  heavens  with  a-  sudden  forked  shaft  of 
living  fire  and  followed  this  fierce  onslaught  with  a 
mighty  reverberation. 

Before  Elinor  knew  it  she  was  at  Eichard  Strong's 
side.  The  deafening  waves  of  sound  ceased  and  died 
away.  Silence,  ominous,  followed;  she  waited;  it  re- 


ELINOE  BEEAKS  A  RESOLUTION         177 

mained  unbroken;  then  the  rain  pattered  against  the 
blinds. 

Involuntarily  he  had  arisen  to  meet  that  unconscious 
movement.  She  stood  near  him  now,  half -turned,  listen- 
ing to  the  rush  of  rain.  Out  of  some  cloud  that  had  hung 
over  him  long — it  seemed — flashes  of  light  appeared  to 
break.  "White  roses  or  red  ?"  She  wore  a  bunch  of  the 
latter  in  her  gown.  He  put  out  his  hands  swiftly,  almost 
fiercely,  but  at  that  moment  she  stepped  suddenly  toward 
the  window. 

"I  felt  sure  a  storm  was  coming/'  she  said,  uncon- 
scious of  his  gesture. 

He  made  no  reply.  Intentional  or  instinctive,  her 
movement  was  typical.  An  abrupt  anger  consumed  him ; 
that  momentary  loss  of  self-command  told  heavily  upon 
his  pride.  His  hands  fell  .to  his  side.  Eed  roses  might 
please  most,  but — he  thought  of  the  figure  of  a  beggar 
he  had  seen  in  London  staring  through  the  bars  at  the 
inaccessible  flowers  of  a  park  that  was  closed  to  him. 
He,  a— 

She  was  looking  at  him  again ;  his  manner  was  strange, 
and  she  laughed  nervously. 

"Don't  you  think  you  are  a  little  unjust?"  she  re- 
marked half-wistfully. 

"To  whom  ?"    A  spark  flashed  from  his  eyes  to  hers. 

"To — why,  the  ladies  of  the  Sorosis !" 


178  BLACK  FKIDAY 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  the  ladies  of  the  Soro- 
sis,"  he  replied,  "or  what  their  professions  may  be.  I 
was  referring  to  women  who  leave  the  duties  of  their  own 
sex  to  invade  the  privileges  of  the  other." 

Her  cheek  grew  cold;  the  sound  of  the  rain  mingled 
with  the  whirl  of  her  thoughts.  She  held  herself  inflex- 
ible; all  the  softness  had  gone  from  her  glance. 

"The  privileges  of  the  other!"  she  said.  "Getting 
money,  you  mean  ?" 

"If  you  care  to  draw  that  inference!"  he  returned 
calmly. 

"Is  there  any  other  ?"  she  asked  carelessly. 

Only  that  strong  earliest  dislike,  the  first  promptings 
of  her  nature  at  the  sight  of  him,  now  moved  her.  She 
laughed  lightly;  then  laughed  a  little  louder  when  she 
saw  his  cheek  flush  at  her  words.  That  she  had  the 
power  to  wound  him  gave  her,  in  her  moment  of  humilia- 
tion, a  novel  pleasure.  Had  he  not  misinterpreted  her, 
misjudged  her,  pressed  upon  her  shoulder  the  great 
weight  of  his  bounty?  She  breathed  deeply  as  if  to  lift 
it  from  her,  but  could  not.  The  longing  to  go  somewhere 
• — away — possessed  her. 

"How  warm  it  is !"  she  exclaimed  impatiently.  "New 
York  is  becoming  very  uncomfortable." 

"I  must  soon  go  west,"  he  spoke  up  slowly,  "and  if 
you—" 


ELINOR  BREAKS  A  RESOLUTION         179 

"West !"  she  interrupted  blankly. 

"If  you  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Rossiter  desire  to  go  to  the 
sea-shore  or  to  the  mountains/'  he  continued,  "there  is  no 
reason  why  you  should  not  do  so." 

Her  look  of  sudden  acquiescence  did  not  escape  him. 

"I  shall  be  away  for  some  time,"  he  continued,  "and 
you  can  make  your  plans  to  suit  yourselves.  Even  when 
I  have  returned,  yon  need  not  feel  bound  to  gage  your 
movements  by  mine." 

"Very  well,"  she  said  quickly.  And  at  the  door:  "I 
will  see  mama  to-morrow." 

In  her  room  an  unnatural  calmness  replaced  all  other 
emotions  in  her  breast.  Without,  the  rain  had  ceased,  but 
from  the  blinds  the  water  dripped  monotonously.  Above, 
the  heaven  was  alight  with  stars,  shining  with  new-born 
luster.  Afar  sounded  a  faint  rumble  and  roar,  like  the 
distant  bombardment  of  a  beleaguered  city. 

"Simpleton  !"  she  told  herself.    "Simpleton !" 

The  knight  and  the  lady ! — she  had  only  hurt  her  fin- 
gers on  the  buckles  of  the  armor. 


CHAPTEE  XVI 

ME.  DALTON  TAKES  A  SUDDEN  RESOLUTION 

When  Charlie  told  Elinor  that  his  going  into 
Kichard  Strong's  office  had  meant  much  to  him, 
he  had  in  mind  the  good  fortune  that  had 
followed  him  since  he  had  procured  employment  with 
that  financier.  In  the  beginning  his  position  at  the  of- 
fice had  been  difficult  to  define.  The  first  week  his  ser- 
vices had  not  been  greatly  in  demand;  he  had  had  the 
choice  of  drumming  his  fingers  idly  on  his  desk  in  the 
little  room  assigned  to  him,,  or  perusing  some  of  the 
financial  literature,  law-books  or  industrial  pamphlets  to 
be  found  in  the  office  library.  He  chose  the  latter,  and 
his  mind,  naturally  retentive,  lent  itself  readily  to  the 
consideration  of  the  work  of  the  professional  corporation 
statistician.  Leaning  back  in  his  chair,  his  equanimity 
was  in  no  wise  disturbed  by  the  sputtering  of  pens,  the 
hurrying  of  feet  and  the  general  air  of  activity  around 
him.  Wrapped  in  such  enticing  fancies  as  these  facts 
and  descriptions  evoked — financial  castles  in  the  air — ho 
looked  upon  the  mercurial  figures  passing  his  door  with 
stoical  and  philosophical  gravity. 
180 


A  SUDDEX  RESOLUTION  181 

But  one  day  Mr.  Strong  entered  the  young  man's  of- 
fice, in  his  hand  a  number  of  papers  and  reports.  Charlie 
put  down  a  red-covered  volume  and  arose.  Kichard 
Strong  looked  from  the  discarded  book  to  Dalton. 

"I  have  been  somewhat  at  a  loss  what  to  give  you  to 
do/'  he  said.  "It  has  always  been  my  endeavor  to  fit  a 
man  into  the  niche  where  he  belongs."  Charlie  bowed, 
but  did  not  answer,  and  the  other  laid  the  papers  he  car- 
ried on  the  young  man's  desk.  "Look  these  over;  the 
matter  is  self-explanatory.  When  you  have  studied  it 
thoroughly,  submit  your  conclusions." 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  replied  Dalton.  "I'll  do  my  best." 
And  as  Mr.  Strong  turned  away,  he  closed  the  door  and 
bent  with  avidity  to  the  work. 

The  devising  of  ways  and  means  for  harmonizing  cer- 
tain small,  but  conflicting  interests — that  was  the  prob- 
lem the  other  had  set  before  him  to  solve.  It  was  neither 
very  difficult  nor  very  easy,  but  the  task  was  to  Charlie's 
liking,  and,  as  he  proceeded,  a  sparkle  of  excitement 
came  into  his  eyes.  Lightly  he  disentangled  the  skein; 
deftly  adjusted  the  threads.  With  care  he  formulated 
his  plan,  put  it  on  paper  as  concisely  as  possible,  and  then 
submitted  it  to  Mr.  Strong,  who  considered  it,  said  noth- 
ing, but  to  the  young  man's  satisfaction,  adopted  it. 

Thereafter  Dalton's  position  brought  him  into  a  rela- 
tionship, more  or  less  personal,  with  the  head  of  the 


182  BLACK  FRIDAY 

house.  He  was  not  exactly  a  private  secretary  or  a 
clerk,  although  he  performed  the  duties  of  both  when 
required.  He  was  industrious,  willing,  had  already  ac- 
quired useful  information  during  his  experience  in  the 
Street,  and  to  his  work  brought  the  best  efforts  of  a  keen 
and  active  brain. 

But  Dalton,  although  zealous  for  others  when  it  served 
his  end,  had  never  had  the  intention  of  confining  his  ex- 
ertions solely  to  his  employer's  interests.  The  idea  of 
self  too  strongly  predominated.  To  enrich  that  self;  to 
advance  that  self ;  to  make  that  self  a  power  among  men ! 
He  had  before  him  the  encouraging  example  of  Jim 
Jubilee.  What  had  that  gentleman  amounted  to  when 
he  had  only  slaved  for  Daniel  Drew?  But  how  had  he 
risen  when  he  had  "struck  out  for  himself" ! 

Chance,  before  long,  brought  to  Charlie  the  coveted  op- 
portunity, if  not  to  emulate  that  striking  and  picturesque 
precedent,  at  least  in  some  degree  to  promote  his  own  in- 
dividual fortunes.  One  noon,  having  left  the  office,  he 
had  but  turned  into  a  side  thoroughfare,  when  a  voice  ac- 
costed him  from  a  neighboring  doorway. 

"Hello,  Dalton !"  And  a  soft,  chubby  hand  was  thrust 
into  his.  Charlie  stopped.  The  man  represented  one  of 
the  many  varieties  of  the  genus  broker,  and  was  face- 
tiously known  as  the  "Jolly  Boy,"  his  establishment  being 
a  pleasant  place  at  which  to  spend  an  hour  at  noon,  or 


A  SUDDEN  RESOLUTION  183 

after  the  close  of  the  business  day.  His  hospitality  had 
won  him  a  certain  clientage  of  inahstinent  spirits  who 
helped  themselves  to  the  choice  cigars  or  the  excellent 
lunch  set  forth  in  the  private  office  for  their  benefit. 

"How  do  you  do  ?"  returned  Dalton,  somewhat  coldly. 

He  knew  that  in  the  course  of  his  brief  connection  with 
the  Street  he  had  been  introduced  to  the  other  on  some 
occasion,,  but  did  not  remember  just  when  or  where. 

"Heard  you'd  gone  into  Bichard  Strong's  office/'  went 
on  the  broker,  and  Dalton  nodded.  "Can  you  give  me  a 
few  moments  ?  I  want  to  have  a  talk  with  you." 

Charlie  looked  surprised.  "Well,"  he  said,  hesitating, 
"I  haven't  much  time  to  spare." 

"Won't  take  but  a  minute,"  was  the  reassuring  re- 
sponse. And  leading  the  way  to  a  private  office,  back  of 
a  number  of  main  offices,  he  motioned  his  visitor  to  a 
chair.  A  darky  who  wore  an  apron  and  a  smile  that 
seemed  a  reflex  of  the  Jolly  Boy's,  appeared  from  some 
recess  and  stood  before  them  in  an  expectant  manner. 

"Have  a  little  lobster  salad  and  a  glass  of  sauterne," 
urged  the  broker. 

"N"o,  thanks,"  returned  Charlie.  "I  don't  care  for 
anything." 

His  tone  left  no  room  for  argument  or  persuasion,  and 
the  broker  was  too  keen  a  judge  of  people  to  press  his 


184  BLACK  FRIDAY 

hospitable  invitation.  With  an  airy  wave  of  his  hand  be 
dismissed  the  dusky  servitor. 

"All  right,"  he  said,  and  his  manner  changed;  the 
spirit  of  the  loving-cup  gave  way  on  his  countenance  to 
an  expression  of  business;  his  face  grew  sober.  "What 
I  wanted  to  say  is  this :  just  drop  in  when  you  feel  like 
it."  Dalton  looked  at  him  quickly.  "And  if  you  should 
hear  of  a  good  thing,  a  dead  sure  thing" — speaking 
slowly  and  with  a  peculiar  emphasis — "come  to  me.  I'm 
not  a  niggardly  sort  of  a  chap  and — well,  you  won't  have 
to  put  up  anything.  You  can  have  what  credit  you 
want." 

The  young  man's  gaze  became  suddenly  veiled ;  unre- 
sponsive. He  did  not  reply  at  once. 

"I'll  think  of  it,"  he  said  at  length,  ambiguously. 

The  Jolly  Boy  did  not  press  the  subject,  but  relapsed 
again  into  his  urbane  self. 

"Heard  the  story  about  Travers  and  the  Fisk-Gould 
yacht?"  he  asked.  "No?  Well,  Jim  was  showing  Trav- 
ers over  it  the  other  day.  In  the  cabin,  on  either  side, 
are  two  portraits,  one  of  Jim  and  one  of  Gould.  'What 
do  you  think  of  them  ?'  says  Jim.  'Very  g-g-good !'  says 
Travers,  holding  his  head  like  a  cock-sparrow.  'Only  one 
c-c-criticism  to  make !'  'Whaf  s  that  ?'  says  Jim,  innocent- 
like.  'To  complete  the  effect,  there  should  be  a  p-p-pic- 
ture  of  our  Saviour  in  the  m-m-middle !'  savs  Travers." 


A  SUDDEN  RESOLUTION"  185 

Dalton  laughed  and  pushed  back  his  oftair.  "Well,  I 
must  be  off/'  he  said,  and  the  other  accompanied  him  to 
the  door. 

When,  several  weeks  later,  the  young  man  reappeared 
at  the  office  of  the  Jolly  Boy,  that  person  did  not  con- 
ceal his  gratification,  and  shook  him  warmly  by  the  hand. 

"Sell  me  a  thousand  Yellow  Dragon  at  one  hundred 
and  eighty  or  thereabouts,"  said  Charlie,  quietly. 

The  broker  opened  his  eyes.  To  the  purchaser  at  par, 
the  stock  of  Oriental  Mail — as  it  was  known  in  the 
papers  of  incorporation — represented  a  profit  of  over 
nine  hundred  per  cent.,  including  yearly  dividends  of 
twenty  per  cent.  What  did  Dalton  mean  by  selling  such 
a  valuable  property? 

"Lord,  man,  what  is  it  ?"  he  said. 

"Arrangements  are  being  perfected  for  a  competing 
corporation.  The  Dragon  has  been  shamefully  abused 
and" — significantly — "the  new  organization  will  be  a 
sort  of  St.  George." 

"That  is  worth  knowing,"  returned  the  broker,  eagerly. 
"You  are  sure — quite  sure?" 

"What  do  you  think?" 

"I  think  you're  in  a  position  to  know/'  said  the  other, 
with  decision.  A  moment  he  looked  thoughtful.  "I'll 
tell  you  what  I'll  do,"  he  said  slowly.  "We  must  keep  it 


186  BLACK  FRIDAY 

very  quiet  and — I'll  make  you  partner  in  a  two-thou- 
sand-share deal." 

Dalton  consented;  the  stock  was  sold;  in  a  week  it 
registered  at  one  hundred  and  seventy. 

"Just  as  you  said  it  would/'  remarked  the  Jolly  Boy, 
with  real  or  affected  admiration  in  his  tone.  "You're  a 
born  speculator,  sir !  Got  all  the  attributes.  Mark  my 
words,  sir,  and,  when  the  time  comes" — laying  his  hand 
in  a  fatherly  manner  on  Charlie's  shoulder — "remember 
it  was  me — me  who  told  you  so." 

To  these  subtle  shafts  of  flattery  Dalton  did  not  re- 
spond as  the  other  expected. 

"You  can  buy  back  my  thousand  now  and  I'll  take  my 
profits,"  he  said. 

"Aren't  you — just  a  leetle  cautious?"  ventured  the 
other. 

Charlie  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "We  have  both  made 
money.  As  far  as  I  am  concerned,  our  deal  is  at  an  end." 

"All  right,"  returned  the  Jolly  Boy.  "You  can  walk 
right  up  to  the  captain's  office  and  get  your  check," — and 
smiled  brigUly.  ^ 

But  Dalton  had  no  intention  of  deserting  the  Yellow 
Dragon  yet  by  any  means.  It  had  occurred  to  him,  how- 
ever, that  he  might  better  keep  his  operations  quiet  by 
trading  at  many  places,  and  he  also  preferred  entirely  to 
sever  his  connection  with  the  Jolly  Boy  now  that  he  was 


A  SUDDEN  KESOLUTION  187 

in  a  position  to  do  without  him.  Accordingly  he  divided 
his  profits  among  various  other  brokers.  The  Yellow 
Dragon  came  crashing  down  to  one  hundred  and  fifty. 
Dalton  had  first  doubled,,  then  trebled  his  short  sales; 
his  earnings  now  were  large. 

"Buy  in  !"  whispered  expediency. 

Charlie  set  his  teeth  and  continued  to  sell.  Twenty- 
four  hours  thereafter,  the  annual  report  of  the  company 
was  given  to  the  public.  The  directors,  having  long  ago 
disposed  of  their  holdings,  now  in  a  spasm  of  dilatory 
honesty  showed  assets  marked  down,  giving  the  stock  an 
intrinsic  value  of  one  hundred  and  ten.  Following  this 
frank,  though  tardy,  exposition  of  the  Dragon's  enfeebled 
and  crippled  condition,  the  entire  Street  turned  upon  the 
languishing  and  broken  monster.  Dalton  bought  back  in 
the  neighborhood  of  one  hundred  and  twenty  all  the  stock 
he  had  sold  and  retired  from  the  arena. 

The  next  day  Charlie  discovered  the  wise  and  discern- 
ing rumor-mongers  had  fairly  ferreted  out  his  own  part 
in  the  running  contest,  and,  as  he  made  his  way  to  the 
office,  he  was  several  times  stopped  and  congratulated. 
But  one  man  he  encountered — the  Jolly  Boy — had  no 
words  of  compliment  for  him.  The  jovial  one's  expres- 
sion was  funereal,  saturnine;  he  held  his  chubby  hand 
tight  behind  his  back. 


188  BLACK  FRIDAY 

"So  ?"  he  said,  "you're  the  kind  of  a  partner  that  isn't 
a  partner." 

In  spite  of  his  coolness,  Charlie  flushed. 

"I  don't  understand  you,"  he  said. 

"We  started  in  together;  you  made  use  of  me;  then 
played  it  alone.  You  'covered'  at  my  place,  but  kept  on 
increasing  your  short  interest  elsewhere.  It  deceived  me 
and  I  bought  all  the  way  down." 

Charlie  smiled  deprecatorily.  "I  didn't  deceive  you," 
he  answered  warmly.  "I  had  no  intention  of  deceiving 
you.  You  deceived  yourself.  I  left  you  with  a  profit. 
If  you  did  not  take  it,  I  can't  see  what  fault  it  is  of  mine. 
I  told  you  our  deal  was  at  an  end.  It  never  occurred  to 
me  that  you  would  place  such  a  construction  on  what  I 
did." 

The  chubby  hand  tightened  into  a  chubby  fist;  the 
rubicund  face  became  apoplectic. 

"All  right !"  he  said.  "You  used  me  and  dumped  me. 
You've  made  a  lump  sum  and  an  enemy.  It's  a  bad  way 
to  start  in  Wall  Street." 

Dalton  tuned.  "When  you  come  to  think  it  over,  you 
will  exonerate  me  from  all  blame,"  he  replied,  and  dis- 
missed the  incident  from  his  mind. 

As  he  entered  the  office  he  wondered  whether  Eichard 
Strong  had  heard  of  his  operations  in  Yellow  Dragon 
and  how  that  gentleman  would  regard  them. 


A  SUDDEN  EESOLUTION  189 

"Mr.  Strong  has  been  asking  for  you,  sir,"  said  Tim 
Taplin,  as  Charlie  unlocked  his  desk. 

"Now  for  it !"  thought  the  young  man. 

But  to  his  surprise  the  financier  evinced  no  disposition 
to  touch  upon  Oriental  Mail ;  his  one  desire  seemed  to  be 
to  expedite  certain  present  plans  of  his  own.  His  man- 
ner was  abstracted ;  before  him  lay  a  railroad  time-table. 
Finally  he  swung  around  from  his  desk  and  Charlie 


"One  moment,  Dalton."  The  young  man  lingered  ex- 
pectant. Would  Mr.  Strong  attempt  to  take  him  to  task  ? 
To  his  surprise  the  other  said :  "I  am  going  away — out 
west !" 

"When  do  you  expect  to  return  ?" 

"I  can't  say  just  when."  He  was  silent  a  moment. 
"Mrs.  Strong  is  going  to  Newport.  If  she  should  want 
anything,  I  wish  you  would  see  that  it  is  attended  to." 

"Certainty,  Mr.  Strong,"  said  the  young  man,  quickly. 
"I  will  be  of  any  service  I  can.5' 

As  Dalton  some  time  later  left  the  building,  a  carriage 
drew  up  near  by.  Upon  the  back  seat  were  two  actresses 
and  from  the  vehicle  descended  no  less  a  person  than  the 
doughty  prince  of  peddlers,  "the  oiled  and  curled  As- 
syrian bull  of  Wall  Street,"  Mr.  Fisk.  This  individual 
paused  a  moment  to  speak  with  one  of  the  ladies,  the 
blonde  queen  of  a  burlesque  troupe,  and  as  he  did  so,  his 


190  BLACK  FKIDAY 

gaze  fell  on  Charlie.  He  had  met  that  young  man  only 
once,  but  the  news  of  success  travels  quickly,  and  Mr. 
Fisk — who  never  forgot  a  face  unless  he  wished  to — now 
not  only  nodded  to  Mr.  Dalton,  but  turned  to  speak  with 
him. 

"Good  for  you,  Dalton!"  he  said.  "If  you  keep  on, 
we'll  have  to  make  you  a  director  in  Erie.  I  was  telling 
these  ladies  about  you,  and  one  of  them" — with  a  wave 
of  his  bejeweled  fingers  toward  the  dark,  black-eyed 
young  woman  who  sat  by  the  side  of  the  fair  lady — "had 
just  expressed  a  desire  to  see  you.  You  have  probably 
heard  of  her — the  peerless,  the  incomparable  Zol — 

Charlie  raised  his  eyes  to  the  lady  indicated  and  all 
thoughts  of  the  Yellow  Dragon  and  stocks  vanished. 
Mechanically  he  lifted  his  hat. 

"I  am  flattered,"  he  said.  And  then:  "Excuse  me, 
please — some  important  business — "  And  quickly  turn- 
ing into  the  press  of  the  crowd,  he  hurried  unceremoni- 
ously away. 

The  Prince  of  Erie  looked  after  him  with  growing 
wonder.  The  dark  lady  began  to  laugh.  She  was  won- 
derfully dressed  in  the  latest  Parisian  style,  with  a  fan- 
tastic hat  poised  most  bewitchingly  upon  her  black  hair. 
Her  tiny  hand  held  an  enormous  bouquet  and  in  her  ears 
sparkled  large  diamonds.  Her  laughter  was  low,  mu- 
sical, unconventional. 


A  SUDDEN  KESOLTJTIOX  191 

"I  don't  see  what  there  is  to  laugh  about/'  said  Mr. 
Fisk. 

"Nothing,"  answered  the  dark  lady,  with  a  pronounced 
French  accent.  "Only  it  was  too  anms-ing!" — and 
laughed  again. 

At  dinner  that  night,  Charlie  was  unusually  thought- 
ful. Despite  his  sudden  comparative  affluence  his  flow 
of  spirits  seemed  to  have  suffered  a  temporary  check. 
The  game-bird  was  too  high ;  the  wine  suggested  tincture 
of  logwood;  his  cigar  burned  inperfectly  and  the  band 
played  too  loudly.  Even  to  that  sprightly  and  popular 
selection,  Shoo  Fly,  Don't  Bodder  Me!  he  listened  with 
a  bored  and  weary  expression.  Mr.  Marks  could  not  fail 
to  observe  his  changed  demeanor,  and  after  a  vain  en- 
deavor to  promote  his  companion's  good  humor,  re- 
marked : 

"Charlie,  you  look  run  down.  You  need  a  change;  a 
vacation !" 

Dalton's  face  brightened  somewhat. 

"By  Jove,  I  believe  you're  right,  Torn/"'  he  said  sud- 
denly, after  a  moment  of  silence.  "I'll  take  a  few  days 
as  soon  as  I  can.  Narragansett — the  races — Goldsmith's 
Maid — India  Eubber  and  Daisy  Burns — what  do  you  say 
to  that?" 

"But  Charlie—" 


192  BLACK  FEIDAY 

"JSTonse'nse,  old  chap !  You've  got  to  come,  too,  and 
that  settles  it." 

"But,"  again  expostulated  Tom,  "playing  the  horses 
isn't  much  better  than — " 

"Oh,  well,"  laughed  Dalton,  rather  queerly,  "if  we  feel 
the  need  of  a  nice,  tranquil  spot,  there's  sleepy  Newport, 
right  next  door." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

AN  INTERRUPTED  DANCE 

<rYou  darling !" 

Posie  Stanton,  all  lace,  muslin  and  flowers,,  rushed 
toward  Elinor,  as  the  latter,  preceding  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Eossiter,  and  a  man  with  luggage,  descended  the  gang- 
way of  the  boat  from  New  York,  and  now  stood  upon 
the  wharf  before  old  Newport  town. 

"Really,  my  dear !"  expostulated  Mrs.  Rossiter,  as  Miss 
Stanton,  turning  from  her  girl-friend,  impetuously  flew 
to  that  startled  but  worthy  lady. 

"Won't  you  let  Elinor  drive  up  to  the  hotel  with  me  ?" 
swiftly  went  on  Posie,  after  the  greetings  were  over.  "I 
came  down  with  my  cart  and — " 

"Go  along,  then,  at  once  !"  laughed  Mr.  Rossiter,  good- 
naturedly.  "Your  mother  and  I  will  follow  in  a  few 
moments," — in  answer  to  his  daughter's  look.  "Of 
course  you've  so  much  to  tell  it  won't  keep." 

Mr.  Rossiter  looked  approvingly  after  them,  while  Mrs. 
Rossiter  readjusted  her  India  shawl  and  ruffled  Mechlin 
laces  not  without  some  show  of  ruffled  composure. 
193 


194  BLACK  FEIDAY 

Through  throngs  of  tourists  and  summer  visitors  Posie 
and  Elinor  pushed  their  way  to  where,  near  the  wharf, 
stood  an  English  dog-cart,  with  a  tandem  team.  Enter- 
ing this  vehicle,  which  attracted  some  attention,  not  al- 
together commendatory,  from  the  year-round  dwellers 
in  the  narrow  streets  near  the  wharves,  Miss  Stanton 
grasped  the  reins,  and  they  were  'whirled  along  past  the 
quaint,  old-time  houses  into  the  newer  part  of  the  town ; 
thence  onward  across  the  southern  portion  of  the  island, 
dotted  here  and  there  with  modest  cottages.  The  beach 
lay  white  before  them,  shimmering  near-by  in  sandy  rip- 
ples left  by  the  receding  tide ;  afar,  gulls  with  lazy  wings 
cleft  the  mists  that  curled  torpidly  around  the  isle. 

"How  delightful  of  Mr.  Strong  to  let  you  come  here, 
instead  of  dragging  you  out  west  among  the  Indians  and 
the  cow-boys !"  said  Miss  Stanton,  beaming  upon  her 
friend.  "So  many  men  insist  upon  taking  their  wives 
with  them  everywhere  like  the  rest  of  their  luggage !" 

Elinor's  gaze  seemed  suddenly  to  be  directed  far  out 
on  the  ocean,  and  she  murmured  some  vague  reply.  "But 
you  haven't  told  me  yet  who  is  here  ?"  she  added,  turning. 

"Quite  a  number  of  people  you  know,"  replied  Posie, 
as  they  approached  the  hotel.  "Mrs.  Fanning — 'It  was 
at  my  house  dear  Elinor  first  met  Mr.  Strong!' — Miss 
Webber,  and  her  dogs;  the  Vanderhoffs — she's  going  to 


AN  INTERRUPTED   DANCE  195 

get  a  divorce — Miss  Garnett — who  asks  often  about  you 
— you  must  know  her  very  well !" 

"I  knew  an  eye  at  a  window,  or  peeping  through  half- 
closed  shutters, — if  that  could  be  called  an  acquain- 
tance !" 

Posie  nodded  comprehensively.  "Yes;  she  said  she 
lived  opposite  you!  Then  there's  the  Eeverend 
Doctor  Clement,  and  as  for  the  rest  of  them" — drawing 
the  cart  up  closely  before  the  door — "you  must  see  for 
yourself !" 

Thereafter  time  lagged  not.  Though  her  moods  were 
often  variable  Elinor's  capacity  for  enjoyment  seemed  to 
grow  with  the  indulgence  she  permitted  herself.  Mr. 
Eossiter  watched  her  with  meditative  eyes,  but  Mrs.  Ros- 
siter  looked  on  with  unqualified  approval.  To  her  it  was 
quite  proper  and  to  be  expected  that  Elinor  should  take 
her  place  in  society,  grasp  at  its  pastimes  and  seize  upon 
its  pleasures. 

One  morning  about  a  fortnight  after  their  arrival, 
Elinor  and  Miss  Stanton  were  driving  near  the  beach 
where  many  persons  were  sunning  themselves  in  cos- 
tumes the  antithesis  to  the  Greek  idea  of  chaste  and  ap- 
propriate drapery.  Here  if  beauty  was  sacrificed,  mod- 
esty, at  any  rate,  did  not  suffer,  for  the  expansive  mate- 
rial distorted  the  figures  of  the  wearers  until  no  trace 
of  the  "human  form  divine"  was  discernible  even  to  the 


19G  BLACK  FKIDAY 

lively  imagination.  Children,  as  unsymmetrical  in  line 
and  outline  as  their  elders — miniature  counterparts  in 
pantalets  and  ample  blouses  of  their  mothers  and  their 
aunts — played  upon  the  shining  strand.  An  umbrella, 
lying  open  upon  the  beach,  presumably  shaded  a  sleeping 
old  gentleman,  or  perhaps,  screened  from  general  view 
an  engaged,  or  newly  wedded  pair. 

Suddenly  Elinor,  who  was  driving,  drew  in  the  reins. 
As  the  cart  came  to  a  standstill,  Miss  Stanton  perceived 
two  masculine  figures,  not  garbed  for  the  sea,  but  in  con- 
ventional business  attire,  outlined  in  the  sunshine  against 
the  sand  dune. 

The  "rainbow  hat"  on  Posie's  head  nodded  once  or 
twice — a  flowery  beacon  for  wayfarers  out  of  their  reck- 
oning on  that  sandy  stretch !  The  signal  was  seen  and 
answered  and  the  couple  drew  near  with  evidence  of  re- 
ciprocal recognition;  the  foremost  swinging  a  switch 
cane;  the  other  holding  his  "cedar-berry"  gloves  very 
primly  in  his  left  hand ! 

"Glad  to  see  you,  Elinor !"  exclaimed  the  taller  of  the 
two,  his  eyes  lighting  with  unmistakable  pleasure. 

She  extended  her  hand. 

"And  Miss  Stanton — you  are  here,  too?" 

"Yes,"  said  Elinor.  "It  was  Posie's  persuasive  let- 
ters that  induced  me  to  come  to  Newport.  But  where 
did  you  drop  from?" 


AN   INTERRUPTED   DANCE  197 

"From  Narragansett." 

"Oh,  the  races !    I  should  have  known  that." 

"I  didn't  know  vou  were  of  sporting  proclivities,  Mr. 
Marks,"  observed  Posie,  directing  her  glance  upon  that 
person,  who  held  himself  reluctantly  back  in  the  shadow 
of  Dalton. 

Mr.  Marks  blushed  ingenuously,  while  Charlie 
laughed. 

"Tom  can  pick  a  winner  with  the  best  of  them,"  he 
said.  "When  Loiterer  was  a  ten-to-one  shot  he  looked 
her  over.  'There's  knee-action,'  says  he,  'and'  wind  and 
heart  for  a  rally !'  Sure  enough,  Loiterer  came  down  the 
stretch  like  a  rocket,  and  was  first  at  the  finish." 

"Dear  me !"  remarked  Posie.  The  limpid  eyes  shone 
with  unqualified  admiration  for  the  discerning  Mr. 
Marks,  who  shifted  uneasily. 

"ReaHy,  you  mustn't  believe — " 

"But  the  races  at  Narragansett  do  not  explain  your 
presence  here,  Charlie,"  said  Elinor. 

"Just  thought  we  would  run  over  for  a  change  I"  His 
gaze  lingered  on  her.  The  slanting  rays  of  the  sun  kissed 
her  cheek;  beneath  her  chin  a  ribbon  fluttered  in  the 
breeze  from  the  sea.  "Besides,  Tom  was  tired  of  win- 
ning." 

"Now,  you  might  have  said  you  ran  over  to  see  us !" 


198  BLACK  FEIDAY 

put  in  Posie.  "Although  we  haven't  any  races  to  offer 
you  here." 

"I  dare  say  you  have  amusements  equally  diverting. 
You  may  not  have  trotting  but — " 

"We  have  gallops/'  interrupted  Elinor. 

"Exactly !"  he  laughed,  and  again  regarded  her. 

She  drew  in  the  reins. 

"Why  don't  you  and  Mr.  Marks  come  to  the  dance  at 
the  hotel  to-night  ?"  urged  Posie. 

Charlie  looked  from  her  to  Elinor. 

"Shall  we?"  he  asked. 

She  flecked  the  horse  tentatively  with  the  whip. 

"Pm  afraid  it  will  be  very  dull  after  Xarragansett !" 

"But  if  we  want  to  chance  it?" 

"In  that  case,  I  don't  suppose  any  one  would  prevent 
you,"  she  answered,  and  the  vehicle  sped  on. 

"What  did  you  tell  her  about  my  picking  Loiterer 
for?" 

The  Shadow's  tone  was  actually  aggressive. 

"Eh?"  said  Charlie,  absently. 

"You  heard  what  she  said — " 

Dalton  turned.  "Pshaw,  Tom.  Haven't  you  learned 
yet  that  it's  not  what  a  woman  says  but  what  she 
thinks?" 

That  night  as  Elinor  stood  in  the  center  of  a  little 
group,  Dalton  entered  the  ball-room.  Apparently  he 


A^    LNTEHKTJPTED   DAXCE  199 

caught  sight  of  her  at  once,  for  he  started  in  her  direc- 
tion, only  to  pause,  not  far  distant,  as  if  deterred  from 
approaching  nearer  by  a  circle  of  black  coats.  But  as 
he  stopped  she  met  his  glance ;  the  hesitation  vanished 
from  his  manner  and  he  stepped  forward  quickly. 

"So  you  did  conclude  to  come?"  she  said,  giving  him 
her  hand.  Her  voice  was  gay;  her  eyes  shone  brightly. 

"Couldn't  stay  away,"  he  answered  in  the  same  tone. 

For  a  few  moments  he  lingered,  involved  in  the  intri- 
cacies of  a  sprightly,  general  conversation,  and  then, 
after  some  laughing  excuse  from  her,  found  himself 
walking  away,  conscious  of  a  light  touch  on  his  arm  and 
of  certain  looks  of  disappointment  that  followed  them. 

"Did  you  see  that  ?"  Seated  in  a  corner,  commanding 
an  outlook  of  ball-room  and  veranda,  Miss  Garnett,  Ar- 
gus-eyed, had  been  critically  observing  the  company  of 
dancers  in  general  and  Elinor  and  her  companion  in  par- 
ticular. "She"  used  to  be  Miss  Eossiter."  Her  voice  was 
full  of  significance  as  she  turned  to  a  lady  seated  next 
to  her.  "No  dower !  You  understand  ?  The  young  man 
is  a  sort  of  relative,  I  think — "  Here  her  voice  lowered 
discreetly,  and  the  rest  was  lost  in  the  ready  ear  of  the 
listener.  "But  a  match  was  out  of  the  question,  of 
course!"  she  added.  "Mrs.  Kossiter  was  too  ambitious 
for  that!" 


200  BLACK  FEIDAY 

"Where/'  asked  the  recipient  of  this  information,  "is 
Mr.  Strong?" 

"Out  west !"  returned  Miss  Garnett,  with  a  sweet  smile 
and  a  sweeter  accent. 

Unmindful  of  the  interest  they  excited  in  the  breasts 
of  these  good  ladies,  Elinor  and  Charlie  paused  a  little 
apart  from  the  vortex  of  moving  figures.  He  looked 
across  the  floor,  his  manner  preoccupied  and  thoughtful. 

"They  are  trying  their  best  to  enjoy  themselves,"  he 
finally  observed. 

"Trying !"  she  repeated.  Then  added :  "Who  was  it 
said  that  to  pursue  joy  was  to  lose  it  ?" 

"Some  one  who  tried  the  game,  I  guess,"  answered 
Charlie. 

His  glance  swung  to  her.  The  slight  disorder  of  the 
brown  curls  seemed  to  bid  defiance  to  those  purely  sub- 
jective and  inward  joys  sung  by  the  philosophers;  the 
brilliancy  of  her  eyes  lighted  a  spark  in  his. 

"What  do  you  say  to  a  dance,  Elinor?" 

"After  such  cynicism — " 

"I  retract — most  humbly,"  he  interposed  quickly,  and 
together  they  glided  over  the  floor.  f 

As  the  exhilarating  rhythm  of  the  music  made  itself 
felt,  Charlie's  face  lost  its  half -moody  look  of  the  earlier 
part  of  the  evening.  Several  times  they  circled  the 
room. 


AN  INTEEEUPTED   DANCE  201 

"By  Jove,  you  can  dance  I"  he  said  at  length. 

"How  nattering!"  she  retorted,  her  quick  breath 
touching  his  cheek.  He  looked  down  at  her  and  in- 
voluntarily his  arm  tightened  when  in  the  press  of 
people  they  were  brought  to  an  abrupt  and  rather  violent 
standstill  by  colliding  with  another  couple. 

Laughing,  she  released  herself;  at  her  feet  lay  sev- 
eral violets  torn  from  her  gown. 

"I'm  afraid,  Charlie,  I  can't  return  your  compliment." 

Secretly  annoyed,  he  stooped  for  the  flowers. 

"Then  you  don't  want  to  finish  the  dance  ?" 

As  he  spoke  the  music  stopped. 

"It  has  finished  itself,"  she  answered,  and  placed  a 
hand  on  his  arm. 

"Where  now?"  he  asked. 

"Anywhere." 

He  led  her  to  the  door  and  together  they  stepped  upon 
the  veranda.  From  the  clatter  of  voices  within  to  the 
comparative  quietude  without,  was  a  tranquilizing 
change.  For  a  moment  Elinor  stood,  listening  to  the 
assuaging  voices  of  the  night,  and  facing  the  breeze  with 
garments  sweeping  behind  her.  The  air  was  full  of  rust- 
lings, a  strange  crooning  lullaby,  running  like  a  melody 
above  an  undertone. 

"You  don't  find  it  too  cool  ?" 

She  did  not  answer  and  he  raised  the  violets;  inhaled 


202  BLACK  FRIDAY 

them,  watching  her  the  while.  The  pale  dimness  from 
the  myriad  jets  in  the  sky  bathed  her  face,  chastening  yet 
revealing  it  to  the  young  man's  steadfast  glance.  In 
contrast  to  the  gaiety  of  but  a  short  time  before,  her 
expression  now  was  sober,  thoughtful.  Many  questions 
that  had  vaguely  assailed  him  returned  with  redoubled 
force. 

"Mr.  Strong  is  coming  back  soon  ?" 

Did  she  start? 

"I  haven't  heard,"  she  replied,  and  sank  down  into  a 
shair. 

"What !  doesn't  he  say  anything  about  it  in  his 
letters?" 

"No ;  he  hasn't  referred  to  it — in  his  letters." 

An  indefinable  subtlety  of  tone  puzzled  Charlie. 
Standing  near  the  rail  he  lighted  a  cigar  and  smoked 
meditatively,  striking  the  ashes  frequently  from  the 
weed. 

"Nor  has  he  said  anything  about  when  he  would  be 
home  in  his  letters  to  the  office,"  observed  Dalton.  ."Be- 
fore I  left,  people  kept  dropping  in.  What  was  he 
doing?  What  consolidation  was  brewing?" 

He  saw  her  fingers  intertwine. 

"Why  ?"  she  asked.  "Does  his  being  away  make  such 
a  difference  ?" 

"Because  in  his  absence  the  little  fellows  are  all  out 


AN   INTERRUPTED   DANCE  203 

of  their  reckoning !  Afraid  of  their  own  shadows !" 
laughed  Dalton. 

Elinor  laughed  too !  "I  dare  say  they  miss  him  very 
much." 

He  regarded  her  quickly.  "Yes;  almost  as  much  as 
you  do — " 

"Only  in  a  different  way !" 

The  words  sprang  from  her  lips  in  spite  of  herself, 
half -lightly,  half -mockingly.  From  his  point  of  vantage 
Charlie  detected  a  new  expression  on  her  face.  What 
did  it  mean?  A  sudden  glimpse  of  Mrs.  Rossi ter 
tnrough  the  open  window  completed  the  picture.  That 
good  lady,  majestically  waving  a  fan,  as  waving  aside 
all  sentimental  nonsense,  was  the  World! 

Charlie  crushed  the  violets  in  his  hand. 

"I  was  right,"  he  thought.  "She  was  sacrificed,  after 
all." 

And  something  indefinite  became  definite  within  Dai- 
ton's  breast.  It  flamed  up  like  fire.  With  a  quick  ges- 
ture he  threw  his  cigar  savagely  from  him,  and,  wheel- 
ing around,  looked  away,  out  into  the  darkness. 

At  that  moment  the  music  began  to  play  and  she  arose. 
"Shall  we  go  in?" 

Charlie  started;  turned.  "If  you" —  he  strove  to 
modulate  his  voice  to  its  conventional  character — "will 
give  me  this  dance." 


204  BLACK  FRIDAY 

She  brushed  her  hand  lightly  across  her  eyes  as  she 
preceded  him  through  the  long,  open  window ;  then  faced 
him  with  a  smile.  "With  pleasure,  of  course.  I  feel 
just  like  dancing  to-night." 


BOOK  II 


BOOK   II 


CHAPTER  I 

MR.  STRONG  RETURNS 

The  Hudson  Eiver  train  drew  up  noisily  in  the 
great  terminal  depot,  and,  among  the  first  to 
alight,  was  a  stalwart  man,  carrying  a  grip,  who 
walked  quickly  through  the  smoke,  past  the  panting 
monster,  toward  the  entrance.  Confronted  by  those 
persons  awaiting  the  arriving  passengers  at  the  end  of 
the  long  platform,  the  man  almost  eagerly  scanned 
that  miniature  sea  of  faces.  A  comprehensive  look,  but 
amid  the  expressive  countenances  whereon  was  written 
every  variety  of  expectant  emotion,  he  apparently  did 
not  find  some  one  he  sought !  His  footsteps  slackened ; 
again  he  scrutinized  the  throng — men,  women  and  chil- 
dren, smiling,  beaming,  some  even  waving  handker- 
chiefs and  hands  at  the  incoming  people — then  pushed 
his  way  through  the  assembled  crowd. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Strong  ?"  At  the  same  time  a 
hand  took  the  grip. 

207 


208  BLACK  FRIDAY 

"Very  well,  James.  Mrs.  Strong  got  my  telegram 
from  Albany?" 

"Yes,  sir.    This  way  to  the  carriage,  sir." 

Mr.  Strong  followed  the  man  to  the  curb,  gazing 
sharply  toward  the  carriage  as  if  he  thought  some  one 
might  be  there — inside  perhaps.  But  the  carriage  was 
empty — he  saw  that  very  plainly  when  the  man  threw 
open  the  door — and,  as  Richard  Strong  entered,  his  face, 
bronzed  by  the  winds  of  the  plains,  expressed  a  trace  of 
feeling.  Disappointment?  He  would  not  acknowledge 
it,  nor  would  he  permit  himself  to  analyze  any  intrusive 
emotion.  Drawing  an  evening  paper  from  his  pocket 
with  seeming  unconcern  he  began  to  read  by  the  failing 
light. 

As  they  drove  on,  the  familiar  hum  of  the  city  failed 
to  arrest  his  attention  and  it  was  not  until  the  carriage 
stopped  that  he  looked  up,  folded  the  paper  and  thrust 
it  into  his  coat.  Ascending  the  front  steps  of  his  home 
he  felt  for  his  keys,  but  found  that  he  had  misplaced 
them  and  rang  the  bell.  For  some  moments  he  waited 
and  was  about  to  pull  the  knob  again,  when  the  door 
was  opened — not  by  her — although  she  met  him  in  the 
hall — whether  accidentally,  or  purposely,  he  could  not 
tell.  She  had  been  coming  from  a  room  and  at  sight 
of  him  paused.  With  a  start  he  conceded  how  her  beauty 
had  unfolded,  and  yet —  Mentally  he  compared  the 


ME.  STKONG  KETUKNS  209 

expression  on  her  face  with  the  expressions  on  those 
other  faces  at  the  depot  and  his  own  countenance  re- 
laxed; he  smiled  grimly,  while  certain  larger  emotions, 
bred  in  nature's  vaster  western  amphitheater  during  the 
past  few  months,  became  dwarfed,  belittled. 

"You  are  looking  well,"  he  said. 

"So  every  one  says,"  she  answered,  confident,  self- 
poised.  "Was  your  trip  successful?" 

"Quite!"  he  answered  laconically,  and  dropped  her 
hand. 

"Your  telegram  came  but  a  short  time  before  your 
train.  We  are  having  a  little  company  to-night.  It  was 
too  late  to  change  any  plans." 

"I  would  not  have  you  do  that,"  he  returned. 

He  now  noticed  the  house  was  brilliantly  lighted; 
that  she  was  attired  in  something  light,  indescribable, 
and  looked  fresh,  white,  with  touches  of  color  in  her 
cheeks,  like  the  tints  of  delicate  roses.  He  felt  dusty, 
tired,  with  the  complexion  of  a  ranchman.  Abruptly 
he  turned,  started  up  the  stairway,  only  to  experience  a 
revulsion  of  feeling.  Gazing  down,  their  glances  met. 
At  first  she  drew  back,  so  dark  was  his  look,  then  re- 
turned it  proudly,  almost  mockingly.  A  moment  the 
vision  of  her  slender  figure  grew  upon  him. 

"You  enjoyed  yourself — at  Newport?" 

"Very  much." 


210  BLACK  FEIDAY 

Closing  his  hand  hard  he  went  on  to  his  room. 

Some  time  later  a  servant  knocked  timidly  at  his 
door. 

"Mrs.  Strong  wants  to  know  if  you  will  soon  be  ready 
to  come  down." 

He  responded  perfunctorily  and  in  a  few  moments  re- 
paired to  the  drawing-room  where  he  found  assembled 
a  merry  company — his  wife,  Posie,  Charlie  and  the 
Shadow,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Eossiter  and  the  Keverend  Doc- 
tor Clement.  As  Mr.  Strong  entered,  Elinor's  face 
appeared  buoyant,  care-free ;  she  was  talking  quickly  and 
every  one  was  laughing.  At  his  coming  she  broke  off 
in  what  she  was  telling  and  turned  to  him. 

"Excuse  my  sending  word/'  she  explained,  "but  we 
really  must  go  in."  And  as  Mr.  Strong  greeted  her 
guests  generally  and  individually:  "People  are  coming 
later — a  musicale — and  if  I  had  known  earlier  you 
would  arrive — " 

"How  very  reprehensible  of  you,  Mr.  Strong,  not  to 
let  Elinor  know,"  murmured  Mrs.  Eossiter,  as  she  took 
that  gentleman's  arm  and  moved  toward  the  dining- 
room. 

But  behind  them  Posie  tossed  her  flowery  head.  "I'm 
sure  Elinor  wouldn't  have  liked  it  half  so  well,  if  she 
had  known  sooner.  As  it  was,  your  home-coming  has 
been  in  the  nature  of  a  surprise,  Mr.  Strong.  You 


ME.  STEOXG  EETUEXS  211 

don't  know  how  pleased  she  looked  when  your  message 
came  !  She  really  changed  color  and — " 

"Blushed  like  a  bride,  I  dare  say  !"  And  the  Eeverend 
Doctor  Clement  beamed  benignly  from  host  to  hostess, 
as  the  party  seated  themselves  around  the  board. 

"Look  at  her  now  I"  Posie  clapped  her  hands. 

The  blood  had,  indeed,  rushed  to  Elinor's  cheeks  and 
for  the  moment  she  looked  startled;  then  recovering 
herself  she  leaned  forward  and  half -gaily  invited  the 
scrutiny  of  the  company. 

"Yes;  look  at  her !"  she  said. 

The  only  persons  who  did  not  join  in  the  conver- 
sation were  Mr.  Strong  and  Charlie  Dalton.  The  lat- 
ter's  countenance  wore  a  conventional  expression,  but  a 
close  observer  might  have  noted  how  his  face  had 
changed  at  Posie's  words  and  how  he  had  glanced  at 
Elinor  quickly.  At  Mrs.  Strong's  response,  he,  too, 
had  involuntarily  leaned  forward  and  striven  to  meet 
her  gaze,  but  in  turning  her  face  from  one  to  the  other, 
as  courting  a  full  and  individual  inspection,  she  appar- 
ently overlooked  Dalton.  The  young  man's  eyes  fell; 
with  one  hand  he  fingered  the  thin  stem  of  his  glass; 
the  other  clasped  his  chair  a  little  tighter. 

"You  brought  back  a  good  color,"  said  Mr.  Eossiter, 
addressing  the  host  of  the  occasion.  "You  must  have 
been  exposed  a  great  deal  ?" 


212  BLACK  FRIDAY 

"Yes;  in  the  saddle,  along  the  line  of  construction. 
For  a  month  I  lived  outdoors." 

"Outdoors!"  cried  Posie.  "How  delightful!  Of 
course,  you  had  many  adventures.  Can't  you  tell  us 
some  of  them?" 

"1  am  afraid  I  can  not  pose  as  a  hero,  Miss  Stanton," 
returned  Mr.  Strong,  his  face  relaxing. 

"I  did  not  know  railroad  presidents  had  to  work  so 
hard,"  remarked  Mrs.  Rossiter,  irrelevantly. 

"Sometimes  through  preference,  Madam,"  was  the  re- 
ply. "I  had  a  longing  for  a  breath  of  the  old  life — the 
glory  and  solitude  of  God's  true  world  !" 

The  rector  coughed.  "Wouldn't  you  include  the 
cities  in  that  category,  Mr.  Strong?" 

"I  hardly  think  I  should  call  Mr.  Tweed's  city  God's 
world." 

"Of  course  there  are  certain  evils — " 

"Then  why  not  thunder  against  them  in  the  pulpit  ?" 
Mr.  Strong's  gray  eyes  shot  a  half-quizzical  glance  at 
the  speaker. 

The  Reverend  Doctor  Clement  changed  color.  Thun- 
der? In  his  church?  He  rubbed  his  hands  gently. 

"I  fear,  Mr.  Strong,  it  would  not  be  in  accord  with 
the  policy  of  our  congregation.  We  seek  the  gradual 
remedy.  A  word,  -a  hint !  A  seed  is  planted.  In  time 
it  grows,  becomes  a  bush,  then  bursts  into  flower." 


ME.  STRONG  RETURNS  213 

His  listener  did  not  appear  profoundly  impressed,  and 
with  sparkling  eyes  Elinor  hastened  to  the  rescue  of  the 
rector. 

'•'Mr.  Strong,  I  am  afraid,  believes  always  in  radical 
measures/'  she  said.  "Business  men,  you  know,  have 
little  time  for  gradual  methods." 

Her  words  to  the  man  at  the  head  of  the  table  rang 
like  a  challenge.  Doctor  Clement  sipped  his  wine, 
smiled,  and  was  silent.  Dalton's  look  passed  from. 
Elinor  to  her  husband.  A  moment's  constraint. 

"Depend  upon  it,"  said  Richard  Strong,  quietly, 
"when  gradual  methods  are  found  effective,  business 
men  will  find  the  time." 

Elinor  turned  to  Charlie.  "How  do  you  like  the  new 
figures  in  the  quadrille?"  she  asked. 

"Can't  say  that  I  know  them,"  he  answered  slowly. 
And  then  after  a  pause :  "What  are  they  like  ?" 

"Oh,  Posie  and  I  must  show  them  to  you  and  Torn.'' 

"Do  you  dance,  Mr.  Strong?"  asked  Posie.  He  shook 
his  head. 

"That  is  too  bad !  If  you  only  did,  we  would  insist 
on  taking  you  to  so  many  'jams'  and  'crushes'  this 
winter." 

Richard  Strong  could  not  profess  any  great  disap- 
pointment and  the  conversation  changed  to  the  con- 
sideration of  an  amateur  theatrical  performance,  and 


214  BLACK  FEIDAY 

the  fashionable  "morning"  concerts  which  were  given  in 
the  afternoon.  Mrs.  Eossiter  reverted  to  her  favorite 
topic  and  expounded  on  the  dawn  of  the  woman's  era  to 
the  rector  across  the  table  while  her  husband  discoursed 
on  the  singing  at  the  opera  the  week  before.  The  din- 
ner, however,  was  rather  hurried',  and  soon  the  gentle- 
men were  left  for  a  brief  interval  to  their  cigars  and 
coffee. 

Perhaps  it  was  the  consciousness  of  being  obliged  to 
abridge  that  usually  felicitous  period,  but  now  the  talk 
lagged;  even  a  good  story  from  Doctor  Clement  fell 
somewhat  short  of  the  mark  and  Mr.  Eossiter  strove  in 
vain  to  lend  to  the  occasion  an  atmosphere  appropriate 
to  a  proper  fellowship  in  the  weed.  Mr.  Strong  smoked 
steadily;  he,  however,  never  hastened  through  a  cigar, 
but  consumed  it  with  unvarying  deliberation — except 
only  when  the  ash  did  not  smoke  evenly.  Then  he 
usually  laid  it  aside  and  lighted  another.  Now  the  ash 
was  broken,  flaky,  but  apparently  he  did  not  notice  the 
imperfection.  He  was  keenly  mindful,  nevertheless,  of 
his  surroundings;  of  the  visual  picture — Mr.  Eossiter, 
airy;  Dalton,  preoccupied;  but  especially  was  he  cogni- 
zant of  sounds  from  without;  from  the  adjoining  room 
— the  deep  voice  of  Mrs.  Eossiter;  the  lighter  tones  of 
Posie;  now  another  voice,  pitched  in  an  intermediate 


MR.  STKONG  EETUEXS  215 

key — laughing.  Quickly  he  arose.  He  regretted  to 
leave,  but — 

"You  don't  mean  you're  going  out?;'  cried  Posie,  as 
he  entered  the  hall.  "Your  first  night  in  New  York 
and  at  home  after — how  many  weeks?  Elinor — "  as 
Mr.  Strong's  wife  came  forward — "why  don't  you  per- 
suade him  to  stay  ?" 

Mr.  Strong  regarded  his  wife  steadily.  She  avoided 
his  eyes  and  her  color  deepened. 

"Persuade  a  man?"  She  laughed  a  little  nervously. 
"Can  you  persuade  a  man?" 

"Indeed  you  can !     Can't  you,  Mr.  Marks  ?" 

Tom  hesitated.  "I  think  the  right  woman — I — I 
mean  it  depends  upon  the  amount  of  persuasion." 

"In  this  case  I  am  afraid  it  would  be  useless." 

"Are  you  so  stubborn,  Mr.  Strong?"  persisted  Posie. 

"You  have  it  on  excellent  authority,"  he  replied  as  he 
took  leave  of  the  company. 


CHAPTER  II 

CHARLIE    VISITS    THE    GOLD-ROOM 

An  extraordinary  condition  manifested  itself  in 
the  financial  world  in  the  autumn  of  1869 — a 
state  of  affairs  well  calculated  to  awaken  uneasi- 
ness, if  not  apprehension,  in  the  minds  of  the  conserva- 
tive. This  untoward  menace  to  prosperity  had  arisen 
gradually  and  was  the  outcome  of  abnormal  and  artificial 
causes.  Nature,  prodigal  of  her  gifts,  had  done  her  best 
to  foster  the  peace  and  plenty  the  nation  was  enjoy- 
ing. The  fruitful  earth  had  yielded  unusually  abun- 
dant crops,  and  wheat  sold  for  more  than  it  had  during 
the  vrar.  But  with  stores  of  abundance  in  sight,  the 
granaries  filled  like  those  of  Pharaoh,  men  were  delib- 
erately conspiring  to  precipitate  conditions  the  reverse 
to  those  warranted  by  natural  laws.  Under  pretext  of 
emptying  the  granaries  and  moving  the  grain  to  foreign 
soil,  the  clamor  for  high  gold  was  heard  with  suspi- 
cious persistency. 

It  became  a  regular  hue  and  cry.  Men  began  to  talk 
about  it  through  habit,  until  by  constant  reiteration 
216 


\  V 

CHAKLIE  VISITS  THE  GOLD-ROOM      217 

that  which  at  first  had  seemed  chimerical  now  was  abso- 
lute and  indisputable  to  many  minds.  An  inordinate 
craze  for  speculating  in  gold  as  well  as  stocks  was  a 
natural  consequence.  People  would  not  work  when 
they  could  reach  into  the  thin  air  and  by  some  magical 
process  grasp  fabulous  fortunes.  The  clerk  deserted  his 
desk;  the  Broadway  merchant,  his  store;  the  Nassau 
Street  journalist,  his  sanctum ;  the  Fifth  Avenue  dandy, 
his  club — all  to  wend  their  way  to  the  affluent  Street. 
The  old  legends  of  the  Rue  Quincampoix  and  the  South 
Sea  Bubble  appeared  colorless  in  comparison  with  the 
almost  daily  happenings  in  the  gold-room  or  on 'Change. 

"Buy !  buy !  buy !"  was  the  frantic  chorus.  Every  one 
seemed  to  have  become  a  gambler  in  gold,  and  behind 
this  feverish  unrest  could  be  felt  the  influence  of  an  irre- 
sistible manipulation,  fanning,  exciting,  stimulating  the 
public. 

To  a  young  man  of  Dalton's  keen  and  comprehensive 
grasp  of  an  existing  situation,  the  opportunities  offered 
by  this  trend  of  events  could  not  lightly  pass  unheeded. 
For  some  time  he  had  seen  them.  At  his  desk  during  the 
long  summer  days  they  had  danced  enticingly  before  his 
eyes,  but  with  a  spirit  of  caution  he  had  continued  to 
wave  them  aside.  Nevertheless,  they  had  persisted  in 
assailing  him  and  after  a  time  he  found  himself  invol- 
untarily repairing  to  certain  places  where  members  of  the 
alleged  gold  clique  were  to  be  found. 


218  BLACK  FKIDAY 

Among  these  temerarious  speculators  the  loud-voiced, 
irrepressible  Mr.  Fisk  was  most  conspicuously  in  evi- 
dence, and  carefully,  quietly,  the  young  man  began  to 
cultivate  an  acquaintance  with  the  partner  of  Mr.  Gould 
in  the  high  gold  movement.  He  learned  of  Mr.  Fisk's 
daily  routine;  where  he  dined;  where  he  wined;  what 
theaters  or  bar-rooms  he  frequented  in  the  evening,  and 
about  so  often  Dalton  managed  to  meet  him.  The 
Prince  of  Peddlers,  as  Fisk  was  sometimes  called,  was 
approachable;  his  egotism  invited  satellites,  and  Dalton, 
for  the  sake>o|  .the  information-he  "courted,  listened  to 
his  stories  and  jokes  of  the  itinerant  days  when  the 
doughty  Jim  had  driven  his  magnificent  "cart':"  four-in- 
hand,  and  doled  out  his  wares  to  the  unsophisticated 
farmers  of  'New  Hampshire. 

In  the  course  of  this  casual  intimacy,  Charlie  did  not 
ascertain  a  great  deal  absolutely,  but  he  divined  a  great 
deal.  And  now  with  the  autumn  a  big  advance  in  the 
value  of  gold  seemed  as  inevitable  as  fate. 

One  dull  September  day  of  that  noteworthy  and  mem- 
orable year,  Dalton  sat  at  his  desk,  thinking  deeply.  To 
what  did  it  all  tend  ?  A  "corner"  in  gold !  A  hercu- 
lean undertaking — mightier  than  a  wheat,  corn,  cotton 
or  any  other  "corner" !  But  the  forces  behind  it — the 
caliber  of  the  men — their  obduracy  of  purpose — the 
far-reaching  ramifications — 


CHAELIE  VISITS  TITE  GOLD-EOOM      219 


Restlessly  Charlie  arose;  walked  a  few  times  across 
the  room;  then  took  up  his  hat  and  cane. 

"I  think  I'll  go  over  and  watch  the  boys  a  little/'  he 
told  himself,  and,  acting  upon  the  resolution,  left  his 
office  and  made  his  way  to  the  gold-room,  adjoining  the 
Stock  Exchange.  It  was  a  gloomy  apartment  with  dingy 
frescoing,  dimly  lighted  by  ten  narrow  windows 
through  which  the  sunshine  entered  reluctantly  on  bright 
afternoons  and  then  speedily  withdrew  as  if  from  an 
uncongenial  place.  Numerous  "catty-corners"  and  nooks 
•were  fenced  off  by  iron  railings  or  thin  plank  parti- 
tions, and  into  these  recesses  the  operators  were  wont  to 
retire  waiting  for  the  phantom  fractions.  A  dull  mur- 
mur greeted  the  ears  of  the  new-comer,  mingled  with 
the  clinking  of  the  instruments,  spinning  out  the  long 
ribbons  covered  with  quotations  from  London,  Paris  and 
Frankfort. 

For  a  time  Charlie  stood  near  the  little  fountain  in 
the  center  of  the  room,  watching  the  electric  indicator 
operated  by  a  man  sitting  before  a  keyboard1  close  to 
the  president's  rostrum.  A  murmur  arose  from  the 
gallery  as  the  person  at  the  instrument  played  allegretto, 
and  the  scale  of  prices  showed  a  marked  variation  in 
the  activity  and  the  spirit  of  the  throng  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  tinkling  water. 

The  scene  seemed  unreal,  fantastic;  as  intangible  aa 


220  BLACK  FRIDAY 

the  gold  dealt  in.  This  gambling  without  rhyme  or 
reason,  what  did  it  profit  a  man?  If  one  could  only 
control  the  trend  of  prices — that  was  different;  it  had 
been  done  with  railroad  and  other  stocks,  but  with 
gold— 

Dalton  continued  to  gaze  at  the  indicator.  What 
would  it  reveal  to-morrow? — the  next  day?— the  next? 

He  left  the  gold-room  as  abruptly  as  he  had  entered. 
In  a  reverie  he  stood  near  the  curbstone  on  Broad 
Street,  the  while  around  him  sounded  the  clatter  of 
open-air  brokers,  pouring  out  a  stream  of  bids  and 
offers  and  telegraphing  signals  with  their  uplifted  digits. 
Sundry  nondescripts  who  had  seen  better  days  flitted  by 
him ;  ghosts  of  the  past  who  haunted  the  Street,  always 
asking  the  prices  and  never  buying. 

"Hack,  sir?"  said  an  insinuating  voice. 

Charlie  looked  up ;  then  stepped  into  the  vehicle,  and 
named  a  restaurant.  He  was  yet  lost  in  his  rumina- 
tions when  the  carriage  stopped  at  the  corner  of  Four- 
teenth Street  and  Fifth  Avenue.  Entering  the  far- 
famed  hostelry,  he  found  the  lower  room  filled  with  the 
usual  number  of  mellow  individuals,  calling  for  brandy 
straight  at  regular  intervals,  and  discussing  the  merits 
of  Erie,  Hudson  or  Pittsburg.  Elbowing  his  way 
through  these  perennially  thirsty  souls,  Charlie  paused 
at  a  little  table  at  the  back  of  the  room,  gaging  his  place 
by  the  object  he  had  in  view. 


CHAELIE  VISITS  THE  GOLD-ROOM      221 

"Won't  you  join  me,  Dalton  ?" 

Mr.  Fisk  was  in  his  customary  seat,  and,  at  his 
•words,  the  young  man  glanced  in  his  direction,  affecting 
to  see  him  for  the  first  time. 

"Thanks,"  he  said,  "but—" 

"Sit  down,  I  tell  you," — with  a  wave  of  the  hand. 
"Was  just  about  to  order  and  the  doctor  told  me  never 
to  eat  alone.  It's  bad  for  the  digestion." 

"In  that  case,"  said  Charlie,  dropping  willingly  into 
the  chair  drawn  out  by  the  assiduous  waiter,  "I  have  no 
alternative." 

Mr.  Fisk  beckoned  to  the  man.  "Bring  us  first  a 
nervine,"  he  ordered.  "Don't  know  what  a  nervine  is, 
eh  ?  Well,  it's  a  concoction  of  roots  and  herbs,  gathered 
by  squaws  at  Baffin's  Bay  when  the  moon  is  full." 

The  somber-looking  servitor's  face  was  a  study;  he 
shrugged  his  shoulders  and  looked  his  dismay. 

"In  other  words,  C4H00,  !w  went  on  the  Prince  of 
Erie.  "Haven't  got  it?  Then  bring  on  your  whisky — 
plain  whisky !"  And  as  the  man  with  a  smile  of  intelli- 
gence vanished :  "That's  the  way  I  get  even  with  them 
for  their  pesky  French  names." 

"A  good'  way,"  said  Charlie,  absently. 

"Confound  everything  French — except  the  women !" 
went  on  the  buoyant,  blond  gentleman.  "Which  reminds 
me  of  that  day  I  met  you.  The  time  you  ran  away,  you 


222  BLACK  FKIDAY 

rogue!  You  remember  it?  It  was  just  after  your 
little  tussle  with  Oriental.  And  do  you  know  what 
the  peerless  Zoldene  said  about  you?  Tour  friend  is 
ve-ry  shy !'  'Not  when  he's  fighting  a  Dragon/  said  I. 
'Then  he  finds  poor  me  more  ter-ri-ble  than  the  dragon !' 
says  she.  And  all  the  way  to  the  theater  she  talked 
about  you.  Not  a  conquest  to  be  despised,  my  boy! 
She's  the  rage  of  the  town." 

The  young  man's  features  did  not  relax  nor  did  he 
answer.,  and  Mr.  Fisk  shot  a  sharp  glance  at  him;  then 
[turned  to  the  bill-of-f  are. 

"Bring  us  anything,"  he  remarked  to  the  waiter. 
"Only  in  courses — a  good  long  dinner !" 

"Perhaps  Monsieur  would  like — " 

"Anything !     Can't  you  hear  ?" 

And  reaching  for  his  whisky,  Mr.  Fisk  raised  it  to  his 
lips. 

"Here's  to  high  gold !" 

"How  high?"  said  Charlie,  with  an  attempt  at  jocu- 
larity. 

The  other  became  more  metaphorical  than  definite. 

"As  high  as  the  loftiest  cliff  of  the  beetling  Hima- 
layas !" 

Dalton  forced  a  laugh.    "Can  you  hold  it  there  ?" 

"Can  we?"  He  smiled.  "Whaf  11  they  do  when  we've 
got  all  the  nuggets,  all  the  dust,  all  the  ingots  and  all  the 
golden  eagles  in  the  land?" 


CHARLIE  VISITS  THE  GOLD-ROOM      223 

"Except  those  held  by  the  government !"  suggested  the 
other.  "And  what  if  the  government  sells — " 

His  listener  did  not  reply  directly.  "Dalton,"  he 
said,  "the  way  to  have  power  is  to  take  it.  I  wanted 
Erie  and  I  got  it." 

"Yes,"  returned  the  young  man,  in  his  voice  a  cer- 
tain tribute  that  the  recollections  of  that  memorable 
fight  evoked,  "there  is  no  doubt  about  that.  But  the 
government — " 

Mr.  Fisk  regarded  the  other  steadily.  "How  would 
you  like  to  do  a  little  work  for  us?"  he  asked  bluntly, 
"It  isn't  much;  all  the  important  wires  are  out;  but 
there  are  a  few  people  to  be  kept  in  line — : 

Charlie's  heart  beat  a  little  faster.  The  proposal  waa 
as  unexpected  as  flattering. 

"At  Washington  ?" 

"Yes." 

The  young  man  reached  for  a  cigarette;  rolled  it 
meditatively  between  his  fingers.  His  first  feeling,  one 
of  gratification,  was  succeeded  by  certain  more  modest 
doubts  and  questionings.  A  figure  intruded  itself  in  the 
scope  of  his  misgivings — Richard  Strong!  What  subtle- 
ty or  significance  lay  back  of  Jim  Jubilee's  offer?  Did 
the  gold  clique  desire  to  give  the  impression  at  Wash- 
ington that  Mr.  Strong — 

"I  don't  know,"  began  Charlie,  hesitatingly,  "that  I 
should  answer  your  purpose." 


224:  BLACK  FRIDAY 

Mr.  Fisk  seemed  to  read  the  young  man's  mind,  and 
his  smile  became  one  of  mingled  amusement  and  irony; 
the  pat  of  his  hand  more  friendly  and  patronizing. 

"Xonsense,  man!"  he  said.  "You're  just  the  chap 
for  the  work."  A  moment  he  studied  him.  "It's  the 
opportunity  of  your  life." 

Dalton  looked  down.  As  Mr.  Fisk  had  said,  he  might 
never  again  have  such  a  chance.  Why,  then,  should  he 
not  profit  by  it?  If  people  construed  his  activity  for 
high  gold  as  a  reflection  of  Eichard  Strong's  attitude 
toward  the  yellow  metal,  why  should  he,  Dalton,  be 
held  responsible  for  the  hasty  conclusion?  But  be- 
neath this  trend  of  specious  argument,  other  potent  in- 
fluences moved  him.  Pride,  which  of  late  had  been  at 
war  with  policy,  urged  him  to  seize  the  opportunity 
to  throw  off  the  yoke  under  which  he  chafed ;  to  be  free, 
beholden  to  no  one,  especially  to —  Something  rank- 
ling stirred  in  his  breast.  A  moment's  silence  and  he 
raised  his  head.  His  bright  determined  eyes  looked  into 
the  optimistic  ones  of  his  companion;  his  manner  be- 
tokened a  sudden  resolution. 

"All  right,"  he  said.    "I'll  do  what  I  can." 

"Good!"  exclaimed  Fisk.  "Come  around  then  this 
afternoon  and  I'll  arrange  for  you  to  meet  Mr.  Gould. 
Then  you'll  know  just  what  there  is  to  be  done,  and — " 
with  a  laugh — "what  there's  in  it  for  you." 


CHAPTEE  III 

RICHARD  STRONG  IS  STARTLED. 

As  the  days  went  by,  Mr.  Strong  evinced  more 
and  more  a  disinclination  for  his  own  fireside. 
The  office;  his  club,  a  small,  quiet  organization  of 
business  men;  the  old  Astor  House  for  meals — these 
were  the  places  where  his  days  and  evenings  were  prin- 
cipally passed.  His  fondness  for  horses  reasserted  it- 
self and  his  handsome  roadsters  were  the  envy  of  the 
professional  followers  of  the  track.  In  his  light  wagon 
he  was  often  seen  at  twilight  time,  speeding  his  brown 
geldings  on  the  almost  deserted  road  far  beyond  the 
noisy  precincts  of  the  city. 

Absorbed  in  business  responsibilities,  he  had  little 
time  for  the  consideration  of  personal  matters.  He  was 
part  and  parcel  of  the  systems  that  he  had  built ;  his 
energy  was  not  his  own;  the  exigencies  of  the  hour 
claimed  him  and  in  taking  precautions  against  the  fu- 
ture, he  toiled  now  harder  than  ever. 

But  while  he  thus  brought  the  force  of  his  will  and 
understanding  to  the  task  of  fortifying  himself  against 
225 


226  BLACK  FEIDAY 

certain  conceivable  dangers,  another  storm — not  a  finan- 
cial one — was  gathering,  of  which  he  had  no  warning.  It 
broke  on  a  certain  day,  shortly  after  Charlie's  interview 
with  Mr.  Fisk.  On  the  afternoon  of  that  day,  Mr. 
Strong  felt  preoccupied,  dull,  as  a  man  overworked,  yet 
relentlessly  driving  himself  to  his  various  tasks. 

Critically  he  scanned  a  number  of  documents,  his 
thoughts  often  reverting  the  while  to  an  article  in  Mr. 
Greeley's  paper  which  he  had  read  that  morning. 

In  vigorous,  terse  language  the  three  great  financial 
storms  that  had  swept  over  Wall  Street  within  the  last 
twelve  years  had  been  briefly  described:  the  crisis  of 
?57,  "the  fruit  of  overtrading  on  a  credit  basis";  the 
crash  of  '61,  and  the  bursting  of  the  bubble  in  '64,  when 
gold  fell  forty  per  cent,  and  many  responsible  houses 
went  down.  Eichard  Strong  well  remembered  the  last- 
named  occasion  and  the  wreck  and  ruin  it  left  behind. 

"Why  did  Mr.  Greeley  publish  that  article?"  he 
thought. 

Then  with  a  sudden  energetic  movement  he  turned 
once  more  to  the  papers.  Having  finished  the  last  page, 
he  folded  the  documents,  tied  them  with  the  tape  and 
deposited  them  in  the  buff-colored  envelope,  when  Tim, 
after  a  discreet  knock,  entered  the  room  with  another 
consignment  of  the  day's  mail.  His  employer  took  trie 
letters  and  handed  the  clerk  the  buff-colored  envelope. 


EICHAED  STRONG  IS  STARTLED        227 

"Take  that  to — "  and  he  mentioned  a  firm  of  promi- 
nent corporation  lawyers.  "One  moment !  Has  Mr. 
Dalton  come  in?" 

"Yes,  sir.    Just  come  in.    He's  in  his  room  now,  sir." 

"I  should  like  to  speak  with  him." 

"Very  well,  sir.  I'll  tell  him."  And  Mr.  Taplin 
vanished. 

Richard  Strong  glanced  at  his  mail.  The  top  letter 
caught  his  eye.  The  envelope  was  small,  square  and 
blue  in  color,  directed  in  a  feminine  hand.  A  vague, 
nameless  depression,  which  had  seized  him  earlier  in 
the  day,  returned.  He  forgot  about  the  envelope,  his 
properties,  the 'gold  crowd.  Dalton's  footsteps  recalled 
him  to  himself. 

"Good  afternoon,  Mr.  Strong." 

"Good  afternoon."  What  had  he  called  Charlie  in 
for?  The  young  man  stood  expectant;  in  one  hand 
his  hat ;  in  the  other  an  unlighted  cigar. 

"You  wished  to  see  me,  sir?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Mr.  Strong,  absently.  "How  is  the 
market?" 

"Feverish,"  returned  Dalton,  quickly.  "The  clique 
has  bought  nine  millions  of  gold  at  one  thirty-four  or 
thereabouts.  The  price  has  been  raised  to  one  thirty- 
eight." 

One  thirty-four — one  thirty-eight — the  figures  failed 
to  awaken  Mr.  Strong's  interest. 


228  BLACK  FEIDAY 

"You  see  the  report  has  got  out  that  Fisk  has  fixed 
the  government,"  went  on  Charlie,  tentatively. 

Mr.  Strong  glanced  mechanically  at  the  letter  in  his 
hand,  and  then  bent  his  gray  eyes  on  the  speaker. 

"Whom  have  they — 'fixed,'  as  you  call  it?" 

"All  the  subtreasury  crowd — Corbin — the  presi- 
dent—" 

The  elder  man  started. 

"The  president !    What  president?" 

"The  president  of  the  United  States." 

Eichard  Strong  straightened  suddenly  in  his  chair ;  his 
hand  crumpled  the  envelope.  For  the  moment  there  was 
silence;  strained,  deep. 

"You  believe  that?" 

"You  don't,  sir?" 

The  other  arose  from  his  place  and  stepped  toward 
Dalton. 

"Ulysses  S.  Grant  is  an  honest  man !"  he  thundered. 

A  moment  he  stood,  powerful,  aggressive,  a  champion 
not  to  be  answered;  then  quietly  returned  to  his  desk. 
The  light  went  out  of  his  eyes;  almost  a  sad  expression 
replaced  the  masterful  look. 

"Dalton/'  he  said  not  unkindly,  "you  are  a  young 
man ;  an  intelligent  young  man,  if  you  will !  You  have 
studied  human  nature;  you  know,  perhaps,  one  side  of 
it.  But  there  is  another  side  you  underestimate, — the 


RICHARD  STRONG  IS  STARTLED        229 

incorruptible !  There  are  men  nothing  can  change ; 
nothing  can  affect.  Some  of  them  are  fools;  some  of 
them  are  only  the  truly  great.  I  have  known  such  men. 
In  my  own  humble  way  I  have  endeavored  to  try  to  be 
like  them." 

Charlie  did  not  answer  at  once.  His  glance  was 
turned  from  the  speaker.  The  stillness  between  them 
emphasized  the  sound  of  shuffling  footsteps  on  the  pave- 
ment without.  When  Dalton  again  spoke  his  voice  was 
low,  constrained. 

"The  president  was  the  guest  of  some  members  of 
the  high-gold  party  on  the  boat  for  the  Peace  Jubilee  at 
Boston.  Mr.  Fisk  was  master  of  ceremony  and — and 
I  presume  that  is  what  has  made  the  talk." 

"It  may  be,"  said  Mr.  Strong,  "these  gentlemen 
would  like  to  accomplish  a  certain  thing.  It  is  equally 
true,  if  there  be  a  conspiracy,  it  will  react  upon  the 
conspirators.  The  government  and  Mr.  Grant  will  do 
their  duty.  The  government  will  not  stop  selling  gold 
for  the  ostensible  purpose  of  stimulating  trade  and 
with  the  real  design  of  promoting  a  corner  in  the  yellow 
metal." 

Dalton's  lids  narrowed  but  he  did  not  seek  further  to 
controvert  this  emphatic  opinion,  and  again  Richard 
Strong  turned  to  the  desk  and  the  letter.  With  mingled 
feelings  Charlie  watched  him. 


230  BLACK  FRIDAY, 

"le  there  anything  more,  sir?" 

Mr.  Strong  swung  around  in  his  chair. 

"No ;  I  don't  think  of  anything,  except — "  his  face  re- 
laxed— "I  have  never  told  you,  but  I  am  well  satisfied 
with  you." 

The  young  man  flushed.  The  gray  eyes  searched  his 
face  with  genuine  interest. 

"It  is  a  great  deal,"  went  on  Mr.  Strong,  "to  com- 
mand competent  service;  it  is  more  to  feel  confidence  in 
those  about  you.  I  have  confidence  in  you,  Dalton;  I 
like  you,  and  speak  frankly." 

Charlie's  face  grew  a  little  whiter.  He  strove  to  reply 
in  words,  but  only  bowed. 

"You  want  to  make  money,  but — don't  try  to  make 
it  in  gold.  It's  a  dangerous  and  an  unfair  game.  Leave 
your  future  to  me  and — I  will  do  all  I  can  for  you." 

More  than  a  trace  of  embarrassment  and  some  other 
indefinable  emotion  crossed  the  young  man's  counte- 
nance. 

"Thank  you,"  he  half  stammered. 

For  the  moment  the  quixotic  idea  entered  his  mind  of 
stating  there  and  then  to  Mr.  Strong  his  desire  to  leave 
his  employ.  But  quickly  following  it  came  the  thought, 
what  reasons  could  he  give  ?  He  could  not  now  specify 
his  connection  with  the  gold  clique ;  to  do  so  would  be  to 
violate  his  understanding  with  them.  Nor  could  he 


RICHARD  STRONG  IS  STARTLED        231 

define  that  other  reason — the  stronger,  more  personal 
one. 

"Thank  you,"  he  repeated,  "I—" 

He  was  not  sure  what  he  had  been  about  to  say,  but 
Mr.  Strong  stopped  him  with  the  gesture  of  a  man  who 
desires  no  words  of  thanks  for  what  he  sees  fit  to  do; 
opened  the  letter  in  his  hand  and  began  to  read. 
Suddenly  his  face  changed.  An  exclamation  from  his 
lips  caused  the  other  to  pause  at  the  door. 

"What  is  it?"  said  Charlie,  surprise  momentarily 
mastering  that  other  feeling. 

Mr.  Strong's  back  was  to  him,  but  Dalton  saw  the 
great  fist  clenched  on  the  desk. 

"What  is  it?"  he  repeated. 

The  hand  unclenched;  turned  here  and  there  among 
the  other  papers. 

"Nothing,"  said  a  strange  voice;  "nothing!" 

A  moment  Dalton  lingered  dubiously.  Then — "A11 
right,"  he  said,  and  went  out  and'  closed  the  door. 

But  when  he  had  gone  Richard  Strong  again  reached 
swiftly  for  the  letter. 


CHAPTER  IV 

A  FIGURE  IN  THE  MOONLIGHT 

He  read  it  again  and  again,  after  which  he  sat 
and  looked  at  it,  as  if  his  mind,  usually  so  clear, 
had  suddenly  been  confronted  with  something  in- 
comprehensible. What  did  it  mean?  What  could  it 
mean  ?  A  nameless  writer — 

With  his  firm  fingers  he  tore  the  missive  and  the  en- 
velope into  bits  and  threw  them  into  the  waste-basket. 

"It  is  not  worthy  of  a  second  thought,"  he  told  him- 
self. "I'll  not  think  of  it." 

But  he  did,  nevertheless;  even  though  he  turned 
resolutely  to  his  papers.  He  read  some  matter  foreign  to 
the  letter  that  had  disturbed  him,  and  when  he  put  the 
business  paper  down,  he  found  he  had  perused  it  like 
an  automaton,  without  mastering  its  contents.  Still  he 
strove  to  concentrate  his  thoughts  on  the  details  of  the 
day,  and  taking  up  a  pen  began  to  write.  The  first 
few  sentences  flowed  concisely,  but  he  was  soon  groping 
for  the  main  thread  of  the  idea  and  obliged  to  commence 
once  more.  He  got  farther — not  much — when  suddenly 
232 


A  FIGUEE  IN  THE  MOONLIGHT         233 

he  bent  his  head  and  held  it  in  his  hands.  For  some 
time  he  remained  thus,  but  at  length  arose. 

"This  will  not  do/'  he  said,  and  walking  to  the  win- 
dow, opened  it  wide,  and  stood  there,  breathing  deeply. 
On  the  pavement  below  were  little  groups  of  men, 
engaged  in  earnest  conversation.  What  were  they  all 
talking  about?  The  man  at  the  window  knew  there 
was  but  one  topic  of  interest  now  for  layman,  or  church- 
man ;  poor  man,  or  rich  man.  Gold !  high  gold,  or 
cheap  gold ;  a  gold  corner,  a  gold  slump ! 

Impatiently  he  turned  and  left  the  room.  Passing 
through  the  general  offices,  he  traversed  the  hall,  pausing 
a  moment  before  Dalton's  room.  That  young  man  had 
some  time  since  betaken  himself  from  his  place  of  labor, 
but  his  door  was  ajar  and  Eichard  Strong  looked  in. 
His  desk  had  been  cleared  of  papers,  but  the  odor  of 
cigar  smoke  still  permeated  the  air.  Mr.  Strong  took 
in  the  various  details  at  a  glance,  lingered  a  moment 
and  then  walked  down  stairs  and  out  of  the  building. 
Turning  into  the  street  the  first  person  he  encountered 
was  a  little  cadaverous,  bearded  man,  with  deep,  sunken 
eyes,  who  slackened  his  nervous  footsteps  at  sight  of 
him. 

"How  do  you  do?"  he  said  and,  with  no  further 
word,  walked  on  with  Eichard  Strong.  The  street  was 
now  fast  emptying  itself  of  its  frequenters ;  messengers, 


234  BLACK  FKIDAY 

clerks,  brokers,  lawyers  and  tipsters;  some  moving 
directly  toward  the  main  thoroughfare;  others  diving 
into  certain  subterranean  places  whence  came  the  sound 
of  a  banjo,  or  a  fiddle,  or  even  the  fuller  strains  of  a 
distressed  small  orchestra. 

"The  short  interest  is  very  heavy  in  gold,"  finally 
observed  the  little  man. 

"So  I  am  told,  Mr.  Gould." 

That  gentleman  said  no  more;  it  had  ever  been  his 
habit  to  examine  and  cross-examine  men  with  his  eyes 
rather  than  his  lips.  Mr.  Strong  had  always  been  im- 
penetrable, but  he  wore  now  an  indefinable  look  which 
puzzled  the  little  man.  Did  it  portend  he  had  been 
selling  gold  heavily  and  felt  himself  bound  to  com- 
promise with  the  Erie  party,  which  was  manipulating 
the  market? 

"Strong  looks  worried,"  Mr.  Gould  remarked  later 
in  the  day  to  Fisk  when  they  met  at  their  common  ren- 
dezvous, a  certain  little  back  office. 

''Well,"  laughed  Jim  Jubilee,  bruskly,  "there's  only 
two  things  that  worry  a  man  in  this  world — gold  and 
^women !" 

His  companion  did  not  answer  directly.  A  certain 
moral  side  of  Mr.  Fisk's  nature  fell  within  the  pale  of 
his  absolute  disapproval.  Mr.  Gould  was  devout,  tem- 
perate, and  above  all,  domestic.  He  might  use  the  other ; 


A  FIGUKE  IN  THE  MOONLIGHT         235 

employ  that  versatile  gentleman  in  many  and  varied 
capacities,  but  the  strong  puritanical  streak  that  ran 
through  the  little  man's  character  shut  out  Jim,  the 
erstwhile  peddler,  from  an  intimacy  any  closer  than  the 
exigencies  of  business  demanded.  Mr.  Fisk  made  money, 
to  employ  it  in  vain  pleasures;  Mr.  Gould,  like  Daniel 
of  old,  worshiped  both  gold  and  the  Book. 

"The  short  interest  must  be  nearly  two  hundred  mil- 
lions," remarked  the  little  man,  and  turned  the  con- 
versation to  the  sober  and  staid  topic  of  the  circulating 
medium  and  the  government. 

Meanwhile  the  subject  of  the  little  man's  thoughts  con- 
tinued to  walk  up-town.  Near  the  post-office  he  stopped 
and  bought  a  copy  of  the  Journal  of  Commerce.  He 
endeavored  to  read  the  h'eadings  of  the  articles  as  he 
walked  along;  to  note  the  last  quotations  for  gold  and 
the  comments  thereon,  but  in  a  few  moments  threw  the 
paper  aside.  He  asked  himself  where  he  was  going. 

His  home  ?  No ;  not  there !  The  picture  of  a  dancer, 
conspicuously  displayed  near  the  entrance  of  Niblo's 
caught  his  eye.  "The  incomparable  Zoldene !"  read  the 
announcement.  A  line  of  people  near  the  box-office 
was  an  eloquent  tribute  to  that  fascinating  lady's  draw- 
ing power. 

In  the  picture  a  net  fastened  her  hair;  with  one  foot 
raised,  she  balanced  herself  on  the  tip  of  the  other,  the 


236  BLACK  FRIDAY 

while  a  ravishing  smile  parted  her  red  lips,  as  if  it 
were  an  exhilarating  and  delightful  feat  thus  to  main- 
tain the  difficult  equipoise.  The  pink  slippers  and  a  red 
rose-bud  were  the  most  striking  features  of  her  costume, 
and,  with  the  smile,  carried  conviction  undoubtedly  to  no 
inconsiderable  part  of  the  public  regarding  the  verity  of 
the  managerial  announcement.  Beyond  the  widely 
opened  portals — suggestive  of  the  alluring  attractions  of 
a  Zoldene  lurking  somewhere  within,  and  a  yawning  ca- 
pacity to  accommodate  as  many  of  the  curious-minded 
as  cared  to  investigate  said  charms — Mr.  Strong  moved 
on,  turning  into  the  Metropolitan  Hotel. 

In  the  lobby  a  merry  group  of  actors,  wearing  English 
"scow  shoes"  of  the  largest  kind,  were  engaged  in  the 
consideration  of — not  brother  players — but  stocks  and 
sherry  cobblers. 

"Erie  —  gold  —  forty  —  three-quarters  —  sell — buy — 
thirty  days  I"  was  the  burden  of  their  talk,  another  straw 
indicating  the  trend  of  events.  The  leading  man  no 
longer  remained  content  to  play  Claude  Melnotte,  or 
Romeo,  but  must  need's  divide  his  attention  between  the 
muse  and  the  market.  Mr.  Strong  paused  long  enough 
to  light  his  cigar,  and  then  resumed  his  walk. 

Before  a  solid  and  stolid-looking  edifice — his  club — 
which  he  reached  some  time  later,  stood  a  light  vehicle 
and  a  spirited  team.  Without  stopping  for  dinner,  he 


A  FIGUEE  IN  THE  MOONLIGHT        237 

entered  the  wagon,  grasped  the  reins,  and  not  long  after- 
ward was  speeding  along  the  almost  deserted  road,  his 
favorite  drive  beyond  the  turmoil  of  the  town. 

Gently  were  falling  the  shadows  of  evening;  tranquil- 
lity lay  on  the  land,  and  peace  on  the  placid  surface  of 
the  majestic  river.  The  wood-robins  sang  in  the  trees, 
and,  somewhere  in  the  bushes  the  plaintive  whippoorwilla 
mourned  unseen.  All  the  assuaging  forces  of  nature, 
however — the  hush  of  the  river,  the  halcyon  touch  of 
twilight,  the  pacific  chant — failed  to  dispel  his  unrest. 
He  held  the  reins  with  no  answering  thrill  to  the  superb 
movement  of  the  fleet-footed  team,  and  soon  the  horses 
relaxed,  jogging  along  with  tossing  mane  and  coquettish 
by-play.  But  after  covering  a  short  distance,  with  no 
sign  of  reproof  from  the  inattentive  driver,  they  were 
stirred  once  more  of  their  own  accord  to  a  sudden  rush 
of  speed,  as  behind  sounded  the  patter  of  hoofs,  and, 
creeping  up,  came  a  light  road  wagon. 

The  man  in  front  had  no  choice ;  a  free  stretch  of  road 
lay  before  him ;  the  air  rushed  by,  cooling  without  clear- 
ing his  brow.  The  team  behind  did  not  gain,  but  hung 
on  his  flank  with  dogged  persistency.  So  it  continued  a 
fair  distance,  until  Eichard  Strong  with  some  difficulty 
drew  in  his  horses  and  suffered  the  other  vehicle  to  pass. 

"Good  team !"  called  out  a  voice.  "You  should  enter 
the  Jerome  Park  races."  And  Eobert  Bonner  sped  by, 
holding  the  reins  over  Peerless  and  Flatbush  Maid. 


238  BLACK  FRIDAY 

After  one  or  two  ineffectual  attempts  to  regain  the 
distance  lost,  Mr.  Strong's  horses  reconciled  themselves 
to  their  master's  mood.  The  shadows  grew  deeper ;  over 
the  river,  night  placed  a  veil;  through  the  chasm  swept 
the  wind.  Now  not  far  before  him  shone  the  bright 
windows  of  a  rambling,  hospitable-looking  structure. 
Near  the  porch  stood  the  editor-sportsman's  team,  sur- 
rounded by  a  number  of  admiring  bystanders,  critically 
inspecting  the  horses  in  the  lamplight.  Mr.  Strong's 
hand  held  the  reins  indecisively.  Should  he  go  on? 
Should  he  stop  ?  The  sound  of  merry  voices  in  carriages 
drawing  near — a  light-hearted  party  of  town-folk — de- 
cided him.  He  necked  the  horses  lightly  with  the  whip. 

Several  hours  later,  when  the  road  lay  in  brightening 
haziness  and  over  the  trees  the  edge  of  the  moon  peeped 
elfishly,  he  returned,  reining  in  the  team  before  the 
rambling  house. 

"My !  but  you  have  been  driving  them,  sir !"  said  the 
stable-boy,  who  appeared  from  around  a  corner  of  the 
wing. 

Mr.  Strong  regarded  the  lad,  half-kindly,  half-dully, 
as  the  latter  stroked  the  moist  neck  of  the  nearer  horse. 

"It  won't  hurt  them,  my  boy,"  he  said.  "Horses  and 
men  are  none  the  worse  for  a  little  driving  occasionally. 
That  never  hurts  them.  But  take  this" — thrusting  his 
hand  in  his  pocket — "and  see  that  they  are  well  rubbed 
down  and  blanketed." 


A  FIGUKE  IN  THE  MOONLIGHT         239 

Entering  the  wing,  he  seated  himself  in  one  of  the 
small  private  rooms.  Long  he  remained  there  and 
smoked.  No;  he  did  not  care  for  anything,  he  said  to 
the  waiter,  and  then,  possibly  reflecting  that  he  would 
attract  less  attention  with  the  viands  before  him  than 
sitting  in  purposeless  abstraction,  he  told  the  man  to 
bring  him  cold  meat  and  ale.  Now,  as  so  many  times 
before  that  evening,  his  mind  went  back  to  the  letter; 
its  words  seemed  burned  in  fire  on  his  brain;  how  dia- 
bolically ingenious  had  been  the  message;  how  keen  the 
train  of  suggestion ;  and  the  inference — 

The  waiter's  entrance  caused  him  to  look  up,  and,  as 
he  did  so,  he  became  aware  of  the  music  of  an  orchestra 
in  an  adjoining  part  of  the  house;  a  light  rhythmical 
strain,  suggestive  of  gliding  feet  and  inspiring  motion. 
The  man  deliberately  arranged  the  dishes. 

"Is  that  all,  sir?" 

"That's  all."  Something  in  the  music  seemed  famil- 
iar. Where  had  he  heard  it  ?  Then  he  remembered.  It 
was  one  of  Elinor's  favorite  waltzes ;  a  breath  of  Vienna 
gaiety.  Mr.  Strong  was  -not  one  of  those  who  believe 
that  music  is  the  "fourth  great  material  want  of  man," 
but  he  had  listened,  perhaps,  with  unconscious  interest 
to  that  particular  play  of  exhilarating  melody. 

"You  have  a  dance  here  to-night?"  he  said  to  the 
waiter. 


240  BLACK  FRIDAY 

"Yes,  sir ;  quite  a  party !  It  has  become  all  the  fash- 
ion in  town  to  give  Eclipse  parties  out  in  the  country. 
This  is  eclipse  month  you  know,  sir.  So  we  have  Eclipse 
polkas,  Eclipse  waltzes  and  Eclipse  gallops.  And  Eclipse 
dresses,  I  guess,  too,  for  each  lady  looks  as  if  she  were 
trying  to  eclipse  every  other  lady !  Would  you  like  to 
just  look  in  at  them,  sir?" 

"No." 

The  guest's  tone  left  no  pretext  for  the  man  to  linger. 
When  he  had  gone,  Mr.  Strong  showed  little  inclination 
to  eat  of  the  abundance  invitingly  spread  before 
him,  for  after  a  moment  he  put  down  his  knife  and  fork 
and  sat  back  listening.  Capricious,  illusive  was  the  mu- 
sic, suggesting  vistas  of  life  he  had  never  penetrated; 
vistas  of  youth,  pleasure — 

A  sudden  desire  to  look  into  the  room  seized  him  and 
quickly  he  arose,  when  with  a  last  flaunting  whirl  of 
sparkling  cadence,  the  melody  resolved  itself  into  the 
final  chords.  He  paused  at  the  door  of  his  room;  re- 
turned to  the  table.  A  hum  of  voices  and  a  flow  of 
laughter  succeeded  the  strains  from  the  orchestra — evi- 
dences of  mirth  and  merriment  which  oppressed  the 
listener. 

This  was  her  world — a  world  to  which  he  was  a 
stranger.  He  wondered  where  she  was  now;  what  she 
was  doing.  Had  she  gone  to  an  assembly  ?  A  musicale  ? 


A  FIGUKE  IN  THE  MOONLIGHT         241 

The  theater?  Was  she  laughing,  too,  like  all  these 
other  women?  He  remembered  how  rare  and  sweet  he 
had  thought  her  smile  the  first  time  he  had  seen  her.  He 
recalled,  too,  her  eyes,  so  deep,  frank  and  true;  the  in- 
flexible grace  of  her  girlish  figure  where  all  that  was  best 
seemed  to  find  a  fair  and  equitable  abiding-place. 
Through  the  confusion  of  his  thoughts,  the  trust  that 
her  glance  inspired  then — her  glance,  and  her  grave  face, 
shorn  of  its  lighter  character  when  he  had  addressed  her 
— recurred  to  him.  One  phase  of  her  nature  had  ap- 
peared as  fixed  as  the  brightest  and  clearest  light  of  the 
most  steadfast  star  in  the  sky.  He  had  never  doubted; 
he  did  not  doubt  now — 

But  the  writer  of  the  accusing  letter  ?  the  object  of  the 
epistle?  What  foul  motive  had  inspired  it?  How  had 
stich  enmity  been  incurred?  It  had  not  been  a  man's 
work — obviously  !  A  woman's  then  ?  A  devil's ! 

Abruptly  the  orchestra  broke  in  upon  the  trend  of  his 
questioning,  and  the  voices  of  the  merrymakers  were 
drowned  in  the  catchy  harmony  of  the  latest  polka.  The 
man  at  the  table  left  his  place  and  walked  out  into  the 
passageway.  A  current  of  air  called  his  attention  to  an 
open  door  and  he  found  himself  moving  up  and  down  the 
broad  veranda  built  on  the  front  and  side  of  the  main 
part  of  the  structure.  Approaching  one  of  the  windows, 
he  stood  against  the  rail  and  looked  in. 


242  BLACK  FRIDAY 

The  heavy  lace  curtains  and  the  lambrequins  almost 
obscured  his 'view,  but  he  could  dimly  discern  graceful 
and  sprightly  figures  in  cea-seless  motion ;  broad  flowing 
silken  gowns,  giving  varied  touches  of  bright  hues  to  the 
animated  scene;  colors  that  intermixed,  vanished,  and 
then  were  seen  again !  He  experienced  a  vague  con- 
sciousness of  picturesque  head-dresses;  arrangements  in 
ivy  leaves,  roses,  wild  flowers.  He  saw  strewn  on  the 
floor,  where  they  had  fallen  from  the  dresses  of  the  heed- 
less votaries  of  pleasure,  several  garlands  of  gay  buds  and 
blossoms  which  now  the  lively  feet  either  thrust  aside  or 
trampled  upon. 

One  figure,  he  could  but  half-discern  on  the  other  side 
of  the  room,  he  almost  fancied  might  be  hers;  a 
tall  form  instinct  with  grace;  the  white  shoulders, 
rounded,  albeit  girlish.  She  was  moving  with  all  the 
abandon  of  a  joyous  spirit,  when  her  dainty  slippers 
caught  upon  a  garland  of  flowers  upon  the  floor.  She 
tripped,  recovered  herself,  tore  the  blossoms  ruthlessly 
apart,  and  with  a  laugh  swung  again  into  the  vortex  of 
figures.  As  she  did  so,  the  watcher  left  the  window. 

The  clock  had  some  time  past  marked  the  midnight 
hour;  the  maids  had  long  been  yawning  in  the  kitchen 
and  the  stable-boys  dozing  in  their  chairs  when  the  party 
broke  up.  One  by  one  the  carriages  drove  away  with 
their  blithesome  couples,  many  of  whom  carried  their 


A  FIGUKE  IN  THE  MOONLIGHT         243 

laughter  far  down  the  road.  The  last  pair  crossed  the 
porch;  there  was  a  brief  vision  of  some  one  assisting  a 
white  figure  into  the  vehicle ;  a  passing  scent  of  the  flow- 
ers she  wore — and  the  Eclipse  dance  had  come  to  an  end ! 

Then  Eichard  Strong,  who  had  ostensibly  been  reading 
a  magazine  in  the  secluded  little  vroom  next  to  the  bar, 
laid  down  the  periodical,  looked  at  his  watch  and  started. 

"Bring  out  the  team/'  he  said. 

"All  right,  sir,"  answered  the  sleepy-looking  waiter 
with  alacrity. 

Soon  the  horses  were  at  the  door,  and,  after  settling 
his  bill,  he  sprang  into  his  carriage  and  turned  city-ward. 

Brightly  shone  the  moon,  a  silvery  disk  well  up  in  the 
sky,  and,  as  he  sped  down  the  road,  the  details  of  the  sur- 
rounding scene  were  plainly  discernible — the  top 
branches  of  the  trees,  now  motionless;  the  bushes,  gro- 
tesque in  outline;  the  road,  white  and  winding.  The 
soothing  sound  of  myriad  insects  mingled  with  the  re- 
assuring notes  of  the  little  owl,  a  cheerful  tinkling  like 
that  of  a  bell.  Perhaps  some  of  the  peace  of  the  hour  de- 
scended on  him.  Perhaps  the  beauty  of  the  night,  the 
soft  glamour  that  lay  on  hill  and  dale,  threw  over  him 
their  magic  spell.  The  one  central  thought  became  para- 
mount. 

"She  is  to  be  trusted— trusted  I" 

That  was  something — a  great  deal.  Yes ;  thank  God 
for  that! 


244  BLACK  FRIDAY 

"Trusted !"  he  repeated  almost  tenderly,  when  sud- 
denly the  glimmer  of  light,  bathing  two  figures  in  a  car- 
riage he  had  unconsciously  almost  overtaken,  arrested  his 
attention.  A  little  streaming  veil  caught  his  eye;  held 
it.  He  thought  of  the  lady  whom  he  had  likened  to  his 
wife;  the  indistinct,  vague  outline  of  the  girl  who  had 
danced  in  unrestrained  enjoyment. 

A  growing  fear  came  over  him ;  an  abrupt  dread,  akin 
to  acutest  pain.  He  knew  why  he  had  unconsciously  as- 
sociated the  lady  with  Elinor.  Because  she  was  Elinor — 
and  she  now  rode  before  him ! 

He  was  assured  of  this ;  as  certain  as  that  he  knew  who 
sat  by  her  side ;  as  certain  as  he  saw  him  bend  over  her ; 
swiftly  draw  her  to  him — kiss  her  again — again — 


CHAPTEE  V 

ELINOR  SITS  UP  LATE 

Just  what  happened  immediately  thereafter  Eich- 
ard  Strong  never  quite  knew.  The  first  blinding 
sensation  which  paralyzed  every  nerve  was  suc- 
ceeded by  an  overpowering  sense  of  what  had  happened 
on  the  road  before  him.  The  hand  clutching  the  whip  he 
had  half-raised  to  his  throat — the  gesture  of  a  man  who 
is  choking — suddenly  stopped;  descended  fiercely,  bru- 
tally !  The  maddened  horses  sprang  forward ;  became 
uncontrollable;  dashed  down  the  road  and  passed  the 
other  carriage,  almost  grazing  it.  Startled,  Charlie 
Dalton  gazed  after  the  runaway  team,  but  with  no  suspi- 
cion of  the  greater  danger  he  for  the  moment  had  es- 
caped. 

How  long  did  Eichard  Strong  struggle  with  the 
horses?  How  did  it  happen  he  managed  to  elude  de- 
struction ?  He  was  conscious  of  having  experienced  sev- 
eral narrow  escapes;  of  having  overtaken  and  passed 
other  vehicles.  But  at  length  he  succeeded  in  checking 
the  headlong  speed  and  drawing  the  panting  and  af- 
245 


246  BLACK  FRIDAY 

frighted  team  to  a  nervous  gait.  He  became.,  also,  aware 
of  feeling  now  a  deep-settled  numbness,  different  from 
the  emotion  of  that  first  outbreak.  Gazing  back,  he 
peered  into  the  gloom  and  saw  nothing;  listening,  he 
heard  nothing.  He  wondered  how  far  they  were  down 
the  road ;  how  long  he  should  be  obliged  to  wait. 

But  for  an  accident  and  he  had  already  acted.  He 
knew  that  he  should  act  now,  if  he  remained,  and  yet  was 
powerless  to  resist  the  primal  human  impulse  that  held 
him  to  the  spot.  He  even  feared  they  might  not  pass  that 
way,  but  at  the  fork  take  the  other  road  leading  into  the 
city.  This  apprehension  grew  into  disappointed  assur- 
ance as  time  sped  on,  and  he  saw  no  signs  of  them.  He 
left  his  wagon  and  restlessly  strode  up  and  down  beside 
it;  now  looking  at  the  sky,  where  a  sickly,  yellowish  im- 
press marked  the  position  of  the  moon  behind  the  clouds, 
and  then  down  the  silent,  deserted  road.  The  horses, 
quivering  and  trembling,  required  no  attention  from  him, 
but  remained  willingly  at  a  standstill. 

During  this  vigil  his  mind,  now  over- vividly  acute, 
passed  in  review  many  events  that  were  suddenly  il- 
lumined with  new  meaning.  The  reason  for  her  confes- 
sion that  day  at  Saratoga  became  plainly  manifest.  She 
had  told  him  she  did  not  care  for  him.  But  she  had  not 
added  that  all  the  time  in  her  mind  had  been  another 
figure ;  in  her  heart,  another  image ! 


ELINOR  SITS  UP  LATE  247 

And  she  had  married  him,  knowing  it !  She  had  stood 
before  the  altar  and  pledged  herself  to  him,  conscious  of 
it !  To  what  end  ?  And  Dalton  ?  A  bitter  exclamation 
burst  from  Eichard  Strong's  lips.  He  and  she ! 

The  unmistakable  sound  of  carriage  wheels  broke  in 
upon  his  mood  and  fixedly  he  gazed  in  the  direction  of 
the  approaching  vehicle.  He  realized  fully  what  he  was 
going  to  do.  He  did  not  consider  how  he  should  bring 
about  the  desired  end,  but  he  knew  he  could  not  fail. 

Nearer  drew  the  carriage  and  he  moved  out  into  the 
road  to  meet  it.  How  slowly  it  approached !  He  breathed 
hardter ;  the  interval  became  interminable.  At  his  feet  a 
katydid  began  its  cheerful  song.  The  vehicle  was  now 
but  a  few  feet  from  him;  a  fierce  joy  beat  in  his  breast. 
The  patter  of  hoofs  grew  louder,  and  Richard  Strong  hacT 
stepped  forward  when  a  strange  voice  called  out.  The 
unfamiliar  tones  arrested  his  action,  held  him  as  if  par- 
alyzed. The  person  who  drove  up  was  alone. 

"Hello,  there  !"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  brought  his  horses 
to  a  standstill.  "Break-down  ?" 

The  motionless  figure  did  not  answer. 

"I  guess  you're  the  runaway  team.    Need  any  help?" 

"No."    The  word  was  forced  through  his  lips. 

The  whip  cracked  and  the  carriage  moved  on,  leaving 
the  man  in  the  road  staring  after  it.  On  him  fell  the 
bitterness  of  the  reaction.  Still  he  lingered,  but  heard 


248  BLACK  FRIDAY 

no  sound  save  the  persistent  incongruous  note  of  the 
minstrel  in  the  grass.  At  length,  he  got  into  his  wagon 
once  more  and  continued  toward  the  city.  Against  the 
gathering  mistiness  of  a  sullen  sky  the  distant  lights 
gleamed  faintly,  but  a  number  of  houses,  now  scattered 
along  the  road,  were  dark  as  if  tenantless. 

The  town  which  he  presently  entered  was  wrapped  in 
murky  shadows ;  the  stillness  reigning  in  the  streets  was 
broken  only  by  an  occasional  wandering  footfall — some 
belated  frequenter  of  the  billiard  rooms,  the  gambling 
houses  or  the  Atlantic  Gardens.  Melancholy  as  the  night, 
a  woman  in  tatters  emerged  noiselessly  from  the  lowering 
shade  around  the  corner  of  one  of  the  narrow  highways, 
passed  on  beneath  the  yellow  flare  of  the  lamp,  and  spec- 
ter-like glided  into  an  abyss  of  obscurity. 

The  horses  must  have  turned  homeward  of  their  own 
accord,  for  the  driver  was  hardly  conscious  of  guiding 
them.  They  had  stumbled  on  somehow,  their  spirit  gone, 
and  at  last  paused  before  the  great  mansion.  As  he  drew 
up,  the  coachman  who  had  been  waiting  in  the  barn  came 
forward,  and  led  the  team  to  the  stable.  Mr.  Strong  ad- 
mitted himself  into  the  hall. 

It  was  dimly  lighted,  as  also  the  library,  and  he  gazed 
quickly  around  him.  She  had  already  returned.  A  light 
wrap,  a  tissue  of  delicate  web  and  mesh,  lay  on  the  chair ; 
beside  it  her  gloves ;  upon  the  floor,  her  veil.  He  glanced 


ELIXOR  SITS  UP  LATE  249 

at  these  various  articles,  but  especially  at  the  bit  of 
diaphanous  stuff  at  his  feet.  Once  more  he  seemed  to 
see  it  fluttering  in  the  moonlight. 

From  an  adjoining  room,  her  portrait  looked  down  on 
him.  Painted  by  a  friend  of  the  Eossiters  not  long  be- 
fore the  marriage,  it  had  been  removed  from  the  family 
homestead  at  the  suggestion  of  the  ever  solicitous  Mrs. 
L'ossiter,  to  adorn  a  conspicuous  place  on  the  walls  of  the 
mansion  provided  for  the  bride.  The  canvas  caught  hia 
attention,  as  perforce  through  some  living  attribute ;  the 
eyes  rested  softly  on  him  with  real  and  positive  insis- 
tence, a  dewy  light  in  their  shadowy  depths.  The  mock- 
ing quality  of  that  psychological  analysis  in  paint  pos- 
sessed him.  So  fair  !  so  sweet ! — it — she — all  was  de- 
ceit— guile — 

A  step  overhead  broke  the  deathlike  hush  of  the  house. 
Mr.  Strong  left  the  hall  and  slowly  mounted  the  stair- 
way. At  the  landing  he  paused ;  a  tiny  glimmer  of  light 
shone  from  beneath  her  door;  drew  him  irresistibly  to- 
ward it.  He  counted  his  footsteps ;  heard  his  own  heart 
beat.  Strangely  he  hesitated  at  the  door.  What  was  he 
going  to  do  ?  Turning  the  knob  quickly,  he  entered  the 
room. 

A  slender  figure,  still  in  the  ball-room  gown,  sprang  up 
from  the  sofa  as  he  crossed  the  threshold.  The  lights 
were  turned  half-down,  but  the  whiteness  of  her  dress 


250  BLACK  FRIDAY 

and  the  paleness  of  her  face  made  her  vividly  discernible. 
At  her  feet  and  clinging  to  the  folds  of  her  skirt  wera 
the  red  petals  of  a  rose  from  the  garland  she  had  worn. 
Dark  shone  her  eyes,  but  behind  the  startled  look  tears 
seemed  to  gleam.  She  stood  there  for  a  moment,  one 
hand  raised  to  her  heart,  as  if  to  still  its  sudden  quick 
beating,  then  gazed  down. 

"You  are  still  up  ?"  he  said. 

"Yes — I  was  at  a  dance — out  of  town." 

As  from  afar  he  studied  her. 

"You — enjoyed  it?" 

"Yes." 

He  moved  a  little  nearer. 

"Is  that  the  reason  you  have  been  crying  ?" 

"Crying ! — how  do  you  know  ? — why — : '  She  tried  to 
laugh.  "I  suppose — all  of  us — sometimes — have  our 
blue  moments,"  she  ended  defiantly. 

"Is  that  the  only  reason?" 

She  stroked  her  gown. 

"Of  course !  What  other  reason  could  there  be  ?"  she 
asked,  lifting  her  head. 

Her  tone  was  light  and  yet  strained. 

"Of  course — there  could  be  none,"  he  returned. 

She  looked  at  him  quickly;  an  expression,  almost  of 
relief,  crossed  her  face.  Again  she  seated  herself  upon 
the  sofa. 


ELINOR  SITS  UP  LATE  251 

"Who  went  with  you  ?" 

She  breathed  quick!}-.    A  flush  mantled  her  cheek. 

"Cousin  Charlie/'  she  answered,  her  eyes  very  bright. 

His  face  changed.  Intently  she  watched  him.  Sud- 
denly her  eyes  dilated. 

"Oh,"  she  cried,  "it  was  you — on  the  road — behind 
us-—" 

Something  seemed  gathering  in  his  brain — a  mist.  He 
took  a  step  forward. 

"Yes— it  was  I—" 

"You  know — you  saw — he  will  not  see  me  again  !" 

The  mist  spread.  Her  eyes  looking  truth,  and  her 
lips  speaking  lies,  overwhelmed  him.  As  through  a 
dark  cloud  he  saw  her  in  the  moonlight;  on  the  road; 
in  Dalton's  arms — 

"Richard,  I—" 

"The  truth  !  The  truth ! — you  sold  yourself  to  me ! 
You  love  him !" 

"No !— no !" 

Spots  of  color  danced  before  him.    "Confess,  or — " 

He  put  out  his  arm.    She  laughed  wildly. 

"Well?    Well?" 

His  hand  closed.  A  deeper  film  was  drawn  over  his 
gaze.  He  was  no  longer  master  of  himself. 

When  the  mist  cleared  he  saw  her,  pale,  passive,  lying 
on  the  sofa.  Stupefied,  he  regarded  her.  Why  did  she 
remain  motionless  ?  What  had  happened  ?  Was  she — 


252  BLACK  FEIDAY 

Automatically  he  turned  up  the  light.  In  the  full 
glare,  her  face  was  whiter;  more  death-like.  Her  golden- 
brown  hair,  unbound,  swept  the  pillow;  her  hand  drop- 
ped from  her  side.  He  looked  at  it — so  inert ! — then  fell, 
on  his  knees  by  the  couch. 

"Elinor !" 

No  answer ;  only  the  closed  eyes  and  the  still  face  !  A 
thrill  ran  through  him.  Guilty  or  innocent,  he  was  ter- 
rified by  what  he  had  done. 

"Elinor!    Elinor—" 

Her  breast  lifted;  then  her  eyelids. 

"Thank  God !"  he  said,  and  dropped  her  hand.  What 
power  had  stayed  his  strength  ?  Surely  he  had  meant — 
some  miracle  seemed  to  have  happened. 

"Elinor!—" 

At  the  sound  of  his  voice,  mechanically  she  drew  her- 
self from  him.  Why  was  he  bending  over  her?  A  mo- 
ment before  the  dimness  of  the  room  had  been  succeeded 
by  darkness,  while  now — 

''Well  ?"  she  said,  as  a  third  person  speaking. 

He  did  not  answer;  his  glance  dwelt  upon  the  brutal 
marks  of  his  hands  upon  her  shoulders — stains  of  red 
upon  the  snowy  whiteness. 

"Well  ?"  she  repeated  in  the  same  tone. 

Unsteadily  he  arose ;  turned. 


ELINOK  SITS  UP  LATE  253 

"I  hate  you  !  hate  you  !"  she  said. 

"I  know  that/'  he  answered,  and  with  no  further  word 
walked  to  the  door. 

Her  eyes  followed  his  receding  figure,  but  he  did  not 
look  back.  The  door  closed;  the  sound  of  his  footsteps 
soon  ceased.  Long  she  sat  staring  at  the  floor.  Without, 
the  cold,  gray  dawn  cast  its  first  lengthening  shadows 
down  the  quiet  street ;  in  the  park  a  bird  began  to  sing. 

It  seemed  to  arouse  her.  Going  to  the  dressing-table 
she  caught  sight  of  herself;  her  shoulders — then  sud- 
denly sank  to  the  floor  and  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  WRITER  OF  THE  LETTER 

The  next  day  Tim  Taplin  noted,  with  some  ap- 
prehension, his  employers  face,  its  expression  that 
of  a  man  spent  with  fatigue.  He  observed,  also — 
what  surprised  him  more — the  usually  steady  hand  of 
Mr.  Strong  was  not  without  a  tremor.  The  clerk's  solici- 
tude overcame  his  diffidence. 

"I  trust  you  are  well,  sir  ?"  he  ventured  to  inquire. 

"Quite  well."  The  eyes  that  looked  into  Taplin's  were 
cold;  the  voice  hard,  discouraging  further  interrogation. 

The  quaint,  ingratiating  smile  faded  from  Tim's  face ; 
in  his  heart,  perhaps,  he  sighed.  What  had  come  over  his 
employer?  Formerly  he  had  volunteered  an  occasional 
query  of  a  personal  nature — about  the  clerk's  domestic 
affairs,  or  his  sister,  Tillie,  to  whom  Tim  was  bound  by 
ties  of  unalterable  devotion!  But  for  some  time  both 
Tillie  and  himself  had  ceased  to  exist,  as  human  beings, 
in  the  mind  of  the  financier.  Tim  had  become  a  ma- 
chine ;  Tillie — alas ! — had  been  obliterated. 

"Has  Mr.  Dalton  come  down  yet  ?" 
254 


THE  WKITEE  OF  THE  LETTEE  255 

"Yes,  sir — and  gone." 

Richard  Strong's  glance  was  so  strange  and  searching, 
the  clerk  shifted  uneasily. 

"He  was  down  very  early/'  explained  Tim.  "He  didn't 
somehow  seem  quite  himself,  and  after  fidgeting  around 
for  a  few  moments  called  me  to  his  desk.  'I've  got  to  go 
to  Washington  again,  on  some  personal  business/  he 
said.  'It's  unexpected,  but  necessary.  Will  you  tell  Mr. 
Strong?'" 

"How  long  did  he  say  he  would  be  gone?" 

"For  a  day  or  two." 

"Very  well.    That's  all." 

Tim  went  out  wondering.  Could  the  young  man's  de- 
parture for  the  capital  city  have  anything  to  do  with 
Mr.  Strong's  altered  demeanor?  The  Street  was  rife 
with  rumors ;  the  day  had  dawned  more  feverish  than 
yesterday;  the  dreaded  whisper  of  impending  failures 
and  tottering  financial  institutions  tended  still  further 
to  increase  the  lack  of  confidence  that  the  public  for  some 
time  had  experienced.  In  railroad  stocks  a  further  weak- 
ness became  observable ;  in  gold,  the  unnatural  buoyancy 
increased. 

"Depend  upon  it,"  the  clerk  told  himself,  "Mr.  Strong 
is  worrying  about  some  of  his  securities."  And  Tim  re- 
turned to  his  work,  shaking  his  head  dubiously. 

For  three  days  Eichard  Strong  practically  confined 


256  BLACK  FRIDAY 

himself  to  his  office.  With  such  energy  as  he  could  com- 
mand he  applied  himself  to  the  pressing  affairs  of  the 
moment,  knowing  that  the  public  weal — his  public — de- 
manded of  him  then,  as  perhaps  never  before,  the  exer- 
cise of  unceasing  vigilance.  His  nights  he  passed  at 
vthe  Astor  House  in  a  room  on  the  second  story  of  that 
com^grtable  hostelry.  He  had  heard  nothing  from  his 
wife;^.eil*£d  Sjent  fee1!1  no  word. 

But  amid  these  public  cares  he  could  not  entirely  shut 
himself  from  matters  of  private  moment.  Passing 
through  the  hall  one  day  he  encountered  a  lady  at  the 
door  of  Charlie's  office;  a  dark  lady,  glittering  with 
jewels  and  redolent  of  flowers  as  a  May-day  queen.  She 
smiled  sweetly  and  spoke  with  a  French  accent. 

"Do  you  know  if  Mr.  Dalton  is  in?" 

It  was  seldom  a  woman's  footstep  passed  the  threshold 
of  these  offices  and  Mr.  Strong  surveyed  this  unusual 
caller  not  without  surprise.  Perhaps  his  regard  was 
more  persistent  than  flattering ;  perhaps  she  instinctively 
felt  the  repellent  force  in  his  glance,  for  her  smile  be- 
came a  shade  less  agreeable.  But  she  was  a  woman  not 
easily  daunted  in  her  purpose  and  her  voice  had  a  more 
determined  ring  as  she  repeated  her  question. 

"He  is  not." 

The  lady's  face  expressed  disappointment.    A  moment 


THE  WRITER  OF  THE  LETTER  257 

she  looked  thoughtful,  as  if  confronted  by  an  unexpected 
contingency,  and  then — 

"When,  please,  will  he  be  in  ?"  she  asked. 

"I  can  not  tell." 

The  lady  tapped  her  foot. 

"How  annoying !"  she  said,  and  added,  with  a  sudden 
sharp  flash  of  her  black  eyes:  "I  am  his  wife." 

Mr.  Strong  wheeled  about. 

"His  what?" 

"His"— tilting   her   head— "wife." 

The  gentleman  made  no  answer;  only  looked  down. 
With  gleaming  eyes  the  lady  watched  him,  as  if  enjoy- 
ing the  situation.  Would  he  question  her  statement? 
Apparently  not. 

"How  long  have  you  been  married,  Madam  ?"  he  said 
at  length. 

Zoldene  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "I  am  no  longer — 
the  bride.  The  honeymoon" — with  a  sigh — "it  is  all 
over — long  ago  !" 

The  fact,  not  the  sentiment  with  which  it  was  embel- 
lished, interested  her  listener.  Critically  he  studied  her. 

"You  are  an  actress  ?" 

"An  artiste,  Monsieur!"  corrected  the  lady.  "They 
call  me— Zoldene !" 

"And  are  playing  in  town?" 

"Oh,  mon  Dieu!"  cried  the  caller.  Have  you  not 
heard?  Zoldene — the  talk  of  the  town  ! — mon  Dieu! — " 


258  BLACK  FRIDAY 

Upon  the  other,  these  expostulations  did  not,  perhaps, 
produce  the  expected  effect,  but  if  he  expressed  no  plea- 
sure in  meeting  a  lady  so  illustrious  and  popular,  his 
manner  at  least  was  shorn  of  a  certain  cold  expectancy, 
which  at  first  had  marked  it.  Opening  the  door  of 
Charlie's  office,  he  ushered  her  in — a  courtesy  that  she  ac- 
knowledged with  a  smile  once  more  wholly  amicable,  in- 
gratiating. Not  without  interest  she  gazed  about,  touch- 
ing her  finger  to  the  dust  on  the  desk  and  eying  askance 
sundry  ponderous-looking  law-books. 

"It  is  not — a  very  pretty  place,"  she  said. 

Mr.  Strong  reverted  to  that  other  topic  of  interest. 

"It  is  not  generally  known,  Madam,  that  Mr.  Dalton 
is  married,"  he  observed. 

"No,"  answered  the  lady;  "after  he  left  the  college,  he 
expected  the  fortune,  but — it  was  gone.  I  am  not  merce- 
naire — mon  Dieu,  no  !" — with  a  sigh — "but  one  can  not 
live  on  the  air.  So  I  return  to  Paris." 

"When  were  you  married?" 

A  smile  rippled'  the  lady's  face.  "When  he  was  at  the 
college.  All  the  sophs — what  3'ou  call  'em  ? — were  in  love 
with  Zoldene.  He  come  every  night ;  he  send  flowers ;  he 
try  to  'cut  the  others  out.'  He  say  he  love  me ;  I  laugh. 
Mon  Dieu!  Zoldene  belong  to  the  art,  not  to  the  man. 
The  last  night  there  was  a  little  supper ;  we  were — what 


THE  WHITES  OF  THE  LETTER          259 

you  call  it  ? — tres  jolly.  Again  he  say  he  love  me.  And 
I — 'No  I  no  !'  But  he  persist.  We  order  more  cham- 
pagne ;  and  some  one  then,  he  'dare'  us  to  go  to  the  min- 
ister. 'No !  no !'  say  I,  and  then  he  tell  me  how  he  love 
me.  And  then — : 

The  lady  paused.  "It  was  so  romantic,  and  he — he 
love  me  so — " 

"And  you  went  to  the  minister's  and  were — married  ?" 

Zoldene's  head  nodded.  "For  better  or  worse,  Mon- 
sieur !" 

Mr.  Strong  offered  no  comments.  He  had  no  reason 
to  doubt  the  story.  In  fact,  at  that  moment  his  mind 
was  not  bent  upon  questioning  the  lady's  veracity.  A 
different  train  of  thought  moved  him. 

"Mr.  Dalton,  as  I  told  you,  is  not  here,"  he  said,  "but 
if  you  would  like  to  write  something,  you  can  leave  it  on 
his  desk." 

"A  note — just  the  thing !"  cried  the  lady,  a  malicious 
light  in  her  eyes.  "It  will  give  him  so  much  pleasure !" 
And  she  began  to  draw  off  her  glove.  "Where  is  the 
paper  ?" — seating  herself.  "Ah,  here  !  And  the  pen  ? 
Mon  Dieu!  the  pen,  it  sputters.  What  shall  I  say?"  The 
little  liand  traced  a  few  lines ;  the  head  tipped  one  way 
to  survey  it  and  then  the  other.  An  envelope  was  di- 
rected with  equal  celerity  and  the  lady  arose. 

"There !"  she  exclaimed.  "If  Monsieur  would  give 
that  to  him.  Monsieur  has  been  very  kind.  Monsieur — " 


2GO  BLACK  FKIDAY 

The  words  died  on  Zoldene's  lips.  She  regarded 
Eichard  Strong  with  a  start  as  she  realized  her  mistake. 
He  was  staring  at  her  note,  studying  intently  the  hand- 
writing. Then  he  turned  from  the  letter  to  her.  A 
frown  gathered  on  the  lady's  brow;  her  eyes  snapped 
angrily. 

"I  will  not  write  him  after  all !"  she  said.  "A  note  ? 
It  is  nothing.  I  will  call  again." 

And  she  held  out  her  hand  for  the  letter.  Still  the 
other  showed  no  disposition  to  relinquish  it. 

"The  note,  Monsieur !"  spoke  up  the  lady,  sharply. 
"I  will  have  it  back." 

Quickly  he  thrust  it  into  his  pocket.  Her  face  changed 
and  she  tossed  her  head. 

"You  are  very  clevaire." 

"Why  did  you  write  that  other  note  ?"  he  said  hoarsely. 

She  drew  herself  up,  no  further  dissimulation  on  her 
face. 

"Why  do  you  think — a  woman  writes  a  note  like  that  ?" 
she  answered.  "I  met  him  on  the  street — he  ran  away 
from  me.  I  write  him;  he  will  not  answer.  Maybe  I 
wanted  to  go  back  to  him.  It  was  not  my  fault  I  must 
leave  him  before.  But  he  would  not  listen  and  then  I 
see  him  with  another,  in  the  park ;  at — " 

Eichard    Strong    opened    the    door,    whereupon    she 


THE  WEITEK  OF  THE  LETTER  261 

paused,  hesitated,  but  something  in  his  face  caused  her 
to  pass  out.  Beyond  the  threshold,  however,  she  turned ; 
her  eyes  looked  unutterable  things. 

"That  is  it,"  she  said.  "Just  like  a  man !  I  do  you 
the  favor.  I  open  your  eyes  to  your  wife.  This  is  how 
you  thank  me." 

And  with  a  vindictive  little  laugh,  she  was  gone. 


CHAPTEE  VII 

BEFORE  THE  BATTLE 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  third  day,  Mr.  Dalton 
returned  to-  town,  and,  dusty  from  his  journey, 
presented  himself  at  the  office.  To  Tim  Taplin, 
whom  he  met  at  the  door,  he  absently  confided  the  fact 
that  the 'trip  had  heen  a  tiresome  one  and  asked  if  Mr. 
Strong  was  in.  The  chief  clerk  replied  that  he  was,  but 
that  a  meeting  of  the  bank  directors  was  being  held  and 
would  probably  be  in  progress  for  half  an  hour.  Still,  if 
Mr.  Dalton  desired  to  communicate  with  Mr.  Strong  im- 
mediately— 

"It  doesn't  matter,"  replied  Charlie,  quickhr,  an  ex- 
pression almost  of  relief  crossing  his  face,  and  turned  to- 
ward his  office.  He  lingered  there  but  a  short  time, 
however,  glancing  over  his  mail.  He  soon  pushed  the 
letters  impatiently  aside  and  got  up;  for  a  moment  he 
stood  leaning  against  his  desk ;  then  reached  for  his  cane 
and  walked  out.  At  the  St.  Nicholas  he  stopped  and 
stepped  to  the  bar.  His  lips  felt  dry  and  the  cheerful 
clinking  of  the  ice  in  the  glass  had  a  grateful  sound.  He 
sipped  the  cooling  beverage  mechanically.  - 
262 


BEFORE  THE  BATTLE  263 

"I  tell  you  they  hold  the  market  in  the  palm  of  their 
hands !" 

"Nonsense !  The  heavy  crops — the  increasing  foreign 
demand  for  our  securities — " 

From  the  hotel  and  the  ever-flowing  loquacity  of  the 
bar-room  speculators,  Charlie  made  his  way  to  his  rooms, 
a  suite  of  apartments  not  far  from  Madison  Square, 
which  he  shared  in  common  with  Mr.  Marks,  and  there 
he  found  the  faithful  Tom  in  waiting.  That  gentleman 
grasped  his  hand  cordially,  with  many  inquiries  as  to  his 
journey,  to  which  Dalton  responded  briefly,  if  not  curtly, 
and  threw  himself  on  the  sofa.  The  Shadow  lighted  a 
pipe,  which  he  drew  from  his  pocket,  and  surveyed  the 
other  with  a  good-nature  that  soon,  however,  became 
mingled  with  friendly  solicitude. 

"You  look  a  bit  done  up,  Charlie." 

Dalton  laughed  shortly.    "I  feel  it." 

Tom  shook  his  head.    "Take  it  easier,  old  chap !" 

Charlie  lay  back,  stared  at  the  ceiling;  then  regarded 
his  satellite  in  a  peculiar  manner. 

"Tom,"  he  said,  "have  you  ever  been  driven  by  a  single 
desire  you  couldn't  shake  off ;  a  mad  desire  that  masters 
you ;  makes  a  slave  of  you  ?" 

Mr.  Marks  looked  startled.  "I  suppose — you  have  beeD 
speculating  again,"  he  returned,  vaguely  and  apprehen- 
sively. 


264  BLACK  FKIDAY 

Dalton  laughed  oddly.    "If  it  were  only  that,  Tom !" 

The  other's  face  furrowed;  he  held  the  pipe  more 
tightly  in  his  hand ;  stared  at  it  with  a  frown. 

"I  don't  mind  telling  you/'  went  on  Charlie,  after  a 
pause,  "that  I've  been  under  a  devil  of  a  strain.  A  devil 
of  a  strain !"  he  repeated  half -absently.  "But  if  I  win, 
I  win  out  big.  If  I  don't — "  He  brought  his  hands  to- 
gether—"but  it's  got  to  go ;  got  to  !  It  can't  fail." 

"What  can't?" 

Dalton  did  not  reply;  only  stretched  himself  ner- 
yously,  and  Tom  arose. 

"Charlie,"  he  said,  "I  don't  like  it— on  my  word,  I 
don't !"  It  was  a  vigorous  protest  to  emanate  from  the 
Shadow,  but  it  seemed  lost  on  the  empty  air.  Mr. 
Marks  strode  to  and  fro.  "It  sounds  too  much  like 
plunging !"  he  added,  stopping  suddenly.  " As  if  failure 
meant  too  much ;  more  than  you  ought  to  risk !" 

"Bisk !"  Dalton  regarded  Tom  with  a  scornful  start. 
"What  do  I  care  about  the  risk?  If  you  had  started 
with  my  handicap, — "  he  broke  off  abruptly.  "When  a 
fellow's  got  a  millstone,  he's  got  to  rise  or  sink  by  no 
gradual  process." 

"What  nonsense  are  you  talking  now  ?"  Tom's  honest 
eyes  shone  with  genuine  bewilderment. 

Charlie  clasped  his  hands  beneath  his  head.  "Xon- 
sense  !  Yes ;  that's  it,"  he  said. 


BEFORE  THE  BATTLE  265 

Mr.  Marks  watched  him  a  moment.  "You're  done 
up,"  he  said.  "Better  take  a  nap,  and  I'll  sit  here  with 
my  books  and  my  pipe.  That  will  be  like  the  old  days 
when  I  had  to  grind  to  pass  the  exams  and  you  could  do 
it  taking  it  easy.  That  was  after  you  jerked  me  out  of 
the  creek.  Couldn't  get  rid  of  me,  so  you  had  to  take  me 
in  out  of  charity.  Kern  ember,  old  boy  ?" 

Mr.  Dalton  did  not  respond;  for  some  time  he  lay 
without  speaking,  his  bright,  restless  eyes  belying  the  im- 
mobility of  body;  then  raised  himself  on  his  elbow. 

"Seen — Miss  Stanton  since  I've  been  away,  Tom?" 

"N~o,"  replied  Mr.  Marks,  immediately  beginning  to 
puff  again  at  his  pipe, 

Dalton  sat  up.  "Lend  me  a  hand,  Tom.  I'm  dusty  as 
a  tramp  and  must  soon  be  off." 

Half  an  hour  later  Charlie  again  swung  out  into  the 
street  and  up  Broadway.  Ordinarily  mindful  of  what 
was  going  on  around  him,  Dalton  in  the  present  instance 
paid  little  attention  to  the  bustle  and  stir  of  the  thor- 
oughfare. He  had  eyes  neither  for  the  women  with 
flounces  and  parasolettes  wending  their  way  in  carriages 
to  Weller's  for  a  pastry  or  a  sandwich,  nor  for  the  trim 
maids  wearing  prismatic  hats.  Even  a  shop-window,  re- 
splendent with  the  snowy  orange-blossom,  the  crimson 
cactus  and  the  regal  passion  flower,  failed  to  attract  his 
casual  glance. 


266  BLACK  FRIDAY 

At  the  square  where  stood  the  Strong  mansion,  which 
he  presently  reached,  he  paused,  hesitated,  and  then 
turned  into  the  inclosure.  His  face  changed  a  little  as 
he  mounted  the  steps ;  he  seemed  to  experience  some  diffi- 
culty in  finding  the  card  which  he  handed  to  the  maid 
that  answered  his  summons. 

"Mrs.  Strong  is  ill  and  has  not  seen  any  one  to-day," 
said  the  girl. 

"Ill  ?"  He  looked  down.  "Perhaps,  if  you  took  up  my 
card—" 

The  maid  turned  and  went  .up  stairs  and  for  some  time 
he  continued  to  wait. 

"Mrs.  Strong  will  have  to  be  excused." 

The  voice  of  the  maid  broke  in  upon  his  thoughts. 
Charlie  drew  his  gloves  more  snugly  upon  his  hands ; 
moved  with  deliberation  toward  the  door ;  paused. 

"It  is  rather  important  I  should  communicate  with 
Mrs.  Strong,"  he  murmured  vaguely. 

And  taking  a  note-book  from  his  pocket,  with  hand 
somewhat  unsteady,  he  scribbled  a  few  words  on  one  of 
the  pages,  then,  folding  the  paper,  he  handed  it  to  the 
girl. 

"Give  this  to  Mrs.  Strong/' 

The  maid  took  the  note.  How  long  was  she  gone? 
When  she  returned,  she  gave  him  an  envelope  which,  with 
an  assumption  of  carelessness,  he  thrust  into  his  pocket. 


BEFOEE  THE  BATTLE  267 

"Tell  Mrs.  Strong  I  hope  she  will  soon  be  herself 
again." 

In  the  square  he  glanced  back  at  the  house.  The 
shades  were  half-raised,  but  the  heavy  lace  curtains  fell 
behind  with  obscuring  effect.  The  pensiveness  of  the 
sky,  and  the  sinking  sun  shining  through  a  haze  of  sullen 
September  mist,  lent  a  depressing  background  to  the 
scene. 

Turning  the  corner,  he  quickly  opened  the  envelope; 
scanned  the  bit  of  paper  that  fell  out : 

"I  should  like  to  see  you  very  much.  There  is  some- 
thing I  must  say  to  you.  If  not  now,  when  may  I  come  ?"' 

For  a  moment  Dalton  stared  at  it ;  then  slowly  tore  it 
into  bits.  It  was  his  own  note  returned  unanswered. 

With  flushed  face  he  stood  there,  indecisive,  nervously 
tapping  the  curb  with  his  cane,  then  beckoned  to  the 
driver  of  a  public  carriage  at  the  entrance  of  the  inclos- 
ure.  The  man,  dozing  on  his  seat,  by  some  perception 
of  an  additional  sense  appeared  cognizant  of  the  prox- 
imity of  a  fare,  and  awakening  his  cob,  drew  up  to  the 
curb  with  an  air  of  fine  expectancy  and  readiness. 

Dalton  hesitated,  glanced  at  his  watch,  and  with  a 
start  recalled  an  important  meeting. 

"The  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel,"  he  said,  and  entered  the 
dilapidated  vehicle. 


268  BLACK  FRIDAY 

At  the  hotel  in  question,  a  keen  observer  might  have 
noticed  the  peculiar  actions  of  sundry  individuals  who 
had  entered  the  lobby  by  the  side  entrance  at  divers 
times  during  the  last  half-hour.  A  little  man  with  a 
black  beard  came  in  quietly  and,  stepping  to  the 
clerk,  put  a  question  to  him  in  an  undertone.  Upon 
receiving  the  answer,  he-  moved  carelessly  across  the  hall, 
and,  entering  a  door  which  was  opened  opportunely  on 
the  other  side,  found  himself  in  the  car  of  the  "perpen- 
dicular railway,"  as  it  was  then  called,  that  intersected 
every  story. 

No  sooner  had  he  been  whirled  out  of  sight  than  a 
large  man  with  a  bulldog  face  appeared,  lighted  a  cigar 
and  strolled  up  and  down.  He  was  joined  by  another 
gentleman,  with  a  cast  in  one  eye  and  a  shrewd  if  not 
benevolent  countenance,  but  these  two  persons  separated 
almost  as  soon  as  they  met.  Shortly  afterward  one  of 
them  sauntered  leisurely  up  the  stairway  and  the  other 
got  into  the  "new-fangled"  car  of  the  upright  railway. 
Several  other  men  strode  cautiously  into  the  lobby  and, 
without  show  of  precipitancy,  were  conveyed  or  conveyed 
themselves  upward,  to  where,  in  a  large  room  in  a  se- 
cluded corner,  Dalton  some  time  later  found  them  all  as- 
sembled. 

The  little  man  with  the  black  beard  looked  over  the 
company,  locked  the  door,  and  opened  a  box  of  cigars. 


BEFOKE  THE  BATTLE  269; 

"The  caucus  will  come  to  order/'  he  said — and  then, 
in  a  terse,  businesslike  manner,  went  on  at  once: 
"There's  only  twenty-five  millions  of  gold  in  the  city. 
The  short  interest  will  have  to  settle  to-morrow." 

"You  think  the  time  has  come?"  The  man  with  the 
bulldog  face  snapped  his  jaws  aggressively. 

"To-morrow !  to-morrow !  to-morrow  !"  returned  the 
little  gentleman,  with  a  growing  emphasis.  "Are  there 
any  objections  ?" 

No  one  answered.  "That  point  then  is  settled,"  said 
the  speaker,  crisply. 

"Are  you  sure  of  Grant?"  asked  the  man  with  a  cast 
in  his  eye. 

The  little  gentleman  turned  to  Charlie. 

"What  does  Corbin  say  about  that?" 

The  young  man  passed  his  hand  through  his  hair ;  he 
looked  around  quickly,  as  if  recalled  to  a  sudden  sense  of 
his  surroundings.  The  little  gentleman  repeated  his 
question. 

"That  the  president  will  stick,"  answered  Dalton. 

"Corbin  ought  to  know,"  said  some  one.  "He's  re- 
lated to  Grant." 

He  of  Jubilee  fame  stroked  his  ponderous  mustache. 
"I'll  answer  for  the  president.  He  has  written  Boutwell 
to  sell  no  gold.  The  executive  fiat  has  apparently  placed 
the  treasury  of  the  United  States  where  it  can  not  snoil 


£70  BLACK  FKIDAY 

the  deal.  Besides/'  he  added,  with  an  ugly  look,  "if  he 
fails  us,  he  knows  we'll  so  compromise  him — " 

The  little  gentleman  laid  his  hand  on  the  other's  arm. 
A  sharp,  stern  look —  "There's  no  talk  about  compro- 
mising." 

The  other  laughed.  "Well,  the  safest  plan,  after  all,  ia 
to  keep  the  president  out  of  the  way,  and  I  guess  while 
he's  at  Newport,  we've  got  him  safe." 

Comprehensive  nods  greeted  this  declaration  and  the 
caucus  had  turned  to  the  vital  consideration  of  ways  and 
means  for  carrying  out  the  campaign  of  the  morrow, 
when  something  white,  surreptitiously  thrust  beneath  the 
door,  arrested  the  attention  of  the  company.  A  moment's 
silence  fell  over  all;  then  the  little  gentleman  arose, 
picked  up  the  slip  of  paper  that  had  so  mysteriously  ap- 
peared, and  opened  it.  Even  his  mask-like  features  ex- 
pressed a  trace  of  feeling. 

"What  is  it  ?    Eead  it  out,  man  !"  cried  Fisk. 

"  'Grant  has  left  Newport.'  " 

Mr.  Fisk  swore  softly.  "Lemme  see  it,"  he  said,  and, 
clenching  his  cigar  tightly  between  his  teeth,  examined 
the  message.  "It  says  that,  sure  enough,"  he  continued. 
'Tes,  and  the  writing's  all  right — "  Abruptly  he  paused. 
"I  know  who  sent  it.  But  where  has  Grant  gone  ?" 

"To  Washington,  no  doubt,"  commented  the  little  gen- 
tleman, thoughtfully. 


BEFORE  THE  BATTLE  271 

"Then  he  must  have  become  suspicious  ?" 

"N"ot  necessarily.  At  any  rate,  he  can't  know  to-mor- 
row is  the  day  we  have  fixed  upon." 

"But  he'll  soon  learn — to-morrow,"  was  the  signifi- 
cant response. 

"That's  just  it.  We  must  telegraph  our  friends  there ; 
have  him  intercepted  or  met  at  the  train  and — got  out  of 
town.  Grant  must  not  he  in  Washington  to-morrow,"  he 
announced  determinedly. 

"But  how  can  he  be  intercepted,  or  got  away?"  asked  a 
dubious  voice. 

"That  is  the  problem,"  said  the  little  gentleman,  with 
a  saturnine  smile,  "to  be  solved." 

The  members  of  the  caucus  looked  at  the  floor,  the 
walls,  the  ceiling,  rather  than  at  each  other. 

"Eureka !"  blurted  out  Mr.  Eisk,  suddenly. 

All  turned,  regarding  him  inquiringly. 

''There's  Denham.  Just  the  man !  He's  a  good  friend 
of  ours  and  an  old  war  comrade  of  Grant's.  Grant  thinks 
a  good  deal  of  him.  He  is  just  now  sick,  dangerously 
sick,  at  his  home  near  Clarksville,  not  far  from  Wash- 
ington. Now  if  we  could  get  a  telegram  from  him 
to  the  president,  asking  Grant  to  stop  off — " 

"Can  it  be  worked?"  asked  the  man  with  the  cast  in 
his  eye. 

"Anything  can  be  worked,"  said  Jim  Jubilee,  bruskly, 


272  BLACK  FRIDAY 

"provided  you  know  how  to  work  it.  And  by  the  eter- 
nal !"  he  added,  "we'll  work  this  and  the  corner,  too." 

"Unless  Eichard  Strong  and  the  gentlemen  he  has  in- 
duced to  join  with  him  in  a  pool  to  oppose  us  should 
prove  an  obstacle/'  remarked  the  man  with  the  bulldog 
face,  ironically. 

"How  about  that  pool,  Dalton?"  said  Fisk.  "Any- 
thing new  ?" 

Charlie  moved  uncomfortably.  "I  don't  know  of  any- 
thing." 

"You  think,  though,  Mr.  Strong  really  means  to  stand 
in  the  way?" 

Again  the  young  man  seemed  to  answer  reluctantly. 
"I  am  sure  of  it." 

"Well,  then,  let  him  look  out  for  the  Juggernaut !" 

The  little  gentleman  arose.  "I  believe  that  is  all,"  he 
said.  "The  caucus  is  dissolved." 


At  about  the  same  hour  some  one  tapped  gently  upon 
the  door  of  Mr.  Strong's  room  at  the  Astor  House.  In 
answer  to  the  occupant's  response  to  come  in,  a  darky  en- 
tered. 

"Gentleman  send  you  dis  card,  suh,"  handing  him  a 
sealed  envelope. 

Upon  the  card   which  Eichard  Strong    found  within 


BEFORE  THE  BATTLE  273 

was  written  a  single  line,  evidently  something  of  mo- 
ment, for  he  started  perceptibly. 

"Any  answer,  suh  ?" 

"No." 

The  darky  vanished  and  Richard  Strong,  after  a  brief 
consideration,  placed  the  card  carefully  in  his  pccketbook 
and  without  taking  his  hat,  left  the  room.  As  he  walked 
down  the  hall  he  scrutinized  the  numbers  on  the  doors, 
finally  pausing  at  the  end  of  the  corridor.  Apparently 
he  found  the  number  he  sought,  for  at  once  he  knocked. 
The  door  was  opened  by  some  one  within  and  Mr.  Strong 
stepped  across  the  threshold. 

"How  do  you  do,  sir  ?" 

A  short,  bearded  man,  to  whom  his  appearance  was 
evidently  not  unexpected,  greeted  him. 

"Excuse  my  troubling  you,  Mr.  Strong,"  he  said, 
extending  his  hand,  "but  when  one  is  in  doubt,  he  seeks 
what  he  regards  as  authority." 

Mr.  Strong's  answering  grasp  was  as  firm  as  the 
other's  was  cordial.  "A  request  from  the  president  of  the 
United  States,"  he  replied,  "is  a  command.  But  I  did 
not  know  you  were  in  New  York,  Mr.  Grant,"  he  added. 

"Nor  do  I  want  it  known,"  answered  the  other.  "I 
was  on  my  way  to  Washington  and  thought  it  best  to 
stop  over  here.  But  won't  you  sit  down?" 

"Thank  you."    Mr.  Strong  took  the  chair  offered  him 


274  BLACK  FRIDAY 

and  silently  awaited  the  president's  further  pleasure.  The 
latter  did  not  speak  at  once,  but  sat  for  some  moments  in 
profound  thought.  When  he  looked  up  his  manner  was 
troubled ;  the  black  cigar  between  his  lips  seemed  not  to 
afford  him  that  consolation  he  usual  ly  found  in  the 
Indian  weed. 

"Mr.  Strong,"  he  remarked  tentatively,  "it  is  much 
easier  to  direct  the  movements  of  an  army  than  to  solve 
the  financial  problems  of  peace." 

To  this  remark,,  which  seemed  put  out  at  a  venture, 
the  visitor  replied  in  kind.  "Perhaps  because  there  is  no 
peace  in  the  world  of  finance,"  he  said. 

The  president  regarded  the  speaker  steadily.  A  less 
reserved  person  would  have  come  to  the  subject  upper- 
most at  once ;  but  Grant  was  ever  content  to  approach  his 
goal  with  care  and  deliberation.  He  studied  the  man  be- 
fore him,  noticing  the  suggestions  of  power  and  reserve 
in  face  and  figure  which  were  so  largely  his  own  heritage. 

"Mr.  Strong,"  he  said  at  length,  "it  has  been  repeat- 
edly represented  to  me  that  the  prosperity  of  the  country 
depends  upon  the  government's  stopping  the  sale  of 
gold." 

His  listener  made  no  answer  and  Grant  waited  a  mo- 
ment, then  rose  and  walked  over  to  the  table. 

"What  do  you  think?"  he  asked  bluntly. 

If  the  president  had  been  slow  in  reaching  the  query, 


BEFOEE  THE  BATTLE  275 

the  other  seemed  in  no  haste  to  give  him  the  response  he 
desired. 

"The  prosperity  of  the  country  depends  on  many 
things,"  Eiehard  Strong  returned  circumspectly. 

Grant  took  the  cigar  from  his  lips. 

"Good !"  he  said.  "I  like  a  cautious  reply.  But  tell 
me  more  definitely  what  you  think." 

"It  is  not  so  much  what  I  think  as  what  you  think." 

The  president's  face  became  grave,  earnest. 

"Many  persons  on  the  Street  are  not  so  averse  to  with- 
holding their  confidence,"  he  replied.  "If  I  do  but  turn 
a  corner,  one  of  them  runs  into  me.  If  I  go  to  Newport, 
I  meet  them  in  the  sea.  Is  it  accident  ?  They  are  all  of 
a  mind ;  all  patriotic !  You  are  about  the  only  person  on 
the  Street  who  has  not  sought  me.  Although  Corbin  told 
me  that  you —  '  He  paused  a  moment.  "What  you  may 
tell  me  I  shall  be  very  pleased  to  consider." 

It  was  a  long  speech  for  General  Grant  to  make;  he 
whose  taciturnity  had  become  proverbial.  At  its  conclu- 
sion the  other  arose  likewise. 

"Thank  you,"  he  said  simply.  For  a  few  moments  they 
looked  into  each  other's  eyes.  Then  the  ghost  of  a  smile 
crossed  Eiehard  Strong's  face. 

"Mr.  President,  I  have  always  known  what  you  would 
do,  when  you  had  thoroughly  looked  into  the  matter.  I 
know  now  what  you  have  no  intention  of  doing  when  the 


276  BLACK  FRIDAY 

time  to  act  arrives.  You  are  not  going  to  withhold  gov- 
ernment gold  from  the  market  for  the  purpose  of  en- 
abling certain  unscrupulous  manipulators  to  get  control 
of  and  to  maintain  a  corner  on  the  metal." 

Over  Grant's  features  came  a  trace  of  surprise.  Had 
he  entirely  expected  this  answer  ?  Certainly  it  seemed  to 
please  him. 

"Mr.  Strong,  I  should  not  have  liked  to  have  had 
you  opposed  to  me  in  the  Wilderness.  You  have  too 
shrewd  an  intuition." 

"Intuition !"  said  the  other.  "Perhaps.  But  I  know 
President  Grant,  and,  when  it  comes  to  a  vital  issue,  he 
will  investigate  for  himself,  decide  for  the  right,  and 
'fight  it  out  on  that  line  if  it  takes  all  summer/  " 

Again  the  president  pressed  the  other's  hand.  "I  am 
obliged  to  you,"  he  said.  "I  am  glad  that  your  views  are 
in  consonance  with  my  own,  although,"  he  added 
thoughtfully,  "I  was  not  exactly  prepared  for  it.  I  got 
from  Corbin  some  sort  of  an  impression  to  the  contrary." 
Richard  Strong's  eyes  shot  a  look  of  quick  interrogation. 
"Perhaps  the  presence  of  some  one  from  your  office — NT. 
Dalton,  in  Washington — had  something  to  do  with  it." 

Mr.  Grant  caught  the  expression  on  his  listener's  face 
and  paused.  "You  did  not  know?" 

"I  did  not." 
[t  was  wit 
short  silence,  spoke  again. 


BEFORE  THE  BATTLE  277 

"I  knew  Mr. — Dalton  had  been  in  Washington.  I  did 
not  know,  however,  that  he  had  affiliated  himself  with 
the  gold  clique.  I  regret  you  should  have  drawn  any  in- 
ference of  my  mind — from  his  presence  there." 

The  president's  face  darkened.  A  moment  he  smoked 
ominously.  "You  will  hear  from  me,  Mr.  Strong/'  he 
said  at  length.  And  then  at  the  door :  "Good  night.  I 
am  very  glad  to  have  had  this  interview." 

As  Richard  Strong  stepped  again  into  the  hall,  a  man 
who  had  been  skulking  at  the  end  of  the  corridor,  watch- 
ing the  door  of  the  president's  room,  wheeled  abruptly 
and  walked  quickly  away. 


CHAPTEK  VIII 

BLACK  FRIDAY 

A  miscellaneous,  tremulous  host  had  congregated 
on  New  Street,  shouting  and  gesticulating.  Before 
long,  every  entrance  to  the  Exchange  became  so 
blocked  by  the  still-gathering  legions,  that  strength 
and  patience  were  required  by  him  who  desired 
or  found  it  necessary  to  work  his  way  through  the  press 
of  people.  Business  became  stagnant;  merchants  left 
their  offices  and  apprehensively  repaired  to  the  scene  of 
strife.  What  had  happened  to  values  ?  What  did  it  mean  ? 
Tampering  with  gold ;  speculating  in  that  precious  com- 
modity had  precipitated  an  alarmingly  unsettled  condi- 
tion, which  might  reach  disastrously  from  one  end  of 
the  land  to  the  other,  and — 

"The  country  is  going  to  everlasting  smash,"  was  the 
general  verdict. 

To  the  conservative  man  of  trade,  it  is  true,  this  an- 
swer seemed  far  from  satisfying.  He  had  been  enjoying 
good  sales  and  reaping  rich  net  earnings ;  with  the  wheels 
of  industry  all  humming,  wreck  and  ruin  seemed  unreal, 
278 


BLACK  FKIDAY  279 

uncalled  for.  Yet  here  was  chaos ;  values  had  run  mad, 
and  financial  institutions  were  tottering.  Small  wonder 
he  felt  at  sea;  lost;  groping  in  the  dark. 

Before  the  opening  of  the  gold-room,  the  announce- 
ment had  gone  forth  that  the  yellow  metal  would  be  ad- 
vanced that  day  to  two  hundred.  This  startling  state- 
ment sent  the  color  from  the  cheeks  of  the  anxious  bears, 
and  they  regarded  one  another  as  if  they  knew  their  doom 
had  been  sounded.  At  eleven  o'clock — a  foretaste  of 
what  seemed  in  store — gold  had  gone  up  almost  twenty 
points,  and  the  ranks  of  the  opposition  showed  many 
signs  of  demoralization.  Before  the  fierce  aggression  of 
the  attacking  party,  the  weaker  defenses  were  carried  and 
only  the  old  campaigners  yet  stood  by  their  guns  exposed 
to  the  cross-fire  of  those  fatal  buying  orders. 

"What  ish  it  now  ?"  A  frantic  Israelite  caught  at  the 
sleeve  of  a  broker. 

"One  hundred  and  fifty." 

"Mcin  Gott  im  Himmel!"  And  the  Hebrew  fell  back 
in  a  faint. 

Fiercer  raged  the  fight.  "Buy ! — buy ! — "  sounded  the 
unvarying  note  of  the  coterie. 

At  the  same  time  confidential  brokers  of  the  gold 
clique,  under  flag  of  truce,  quietly  began  to  confer  with 
the  enemy,  advising  unconditional  surrender  or  the  al- 
ternative of  a  further  inflation  of  values,  until  the  dread- 


280  BLACK  FEIDAY 

ed  two  hundred'  mark  was  reached.  In  the  face  of  this 
threat,  many  belligerents  threw  down  their  weapons ; 
wended  their  way  to  the  headquarters  of  their  assailants, 
accepted  the  terms  offered,  and  mournfully  departed 
from  the  scene  of  battle.  Others,  however,  of  a  sterner, 
more  martial  mold,  yet  elected  to  remain  on  the  field 
and  fight. 

Standing  near  the  fountain,  Dalton  watched  the  exo- 
dus of  certain  of  the  enemy.  In  his  hand  he  held  a  slip, 
containing  his  instructions  from  the  clique,  which  hav- 
ing been  fulfilled,  gave  him  a  moment  for  pleasing  con- 
templation. The  din  was  like  a  huzza  to  his  ears ;  a  tri- 
umphal discord  of  a  battle  whose  end  was  no  longer  a 
matter  of  doubt.  His  face  was  burning;  his  hand  dry 
and  hot,  and  he  dragged  it  in  the  basin  of  cold  water 
without  being  conscious  of  a  reactionary  sensation. 

"Won  1" 

Like  the  soft  arpeggios  of  a  harp  the  water  tinkled, 
and  he  looked  down  into  it  to  see  his  own  face. 

"Kich  !  Eich  !"  the  reflection  seemed  to  gibber  back  at 
him,  pale,  worn,  yet  glorying,  Narcissus-like.  Around 
him  were  other  white  faces  but  in  their  eyes  was  despair. 
With  a  consciousness  that  he  sat  upon  a  pinnacle  of 
power  far  removed  from  the  brunt  of  wreck  and  disaster, 
Dalton  contemplated  the  losing  host.  Vaguely  he  won- 
dered why  a  messenger  did  not  bring  him  further  in- 
structions. Were  the  clique  relaxing  their  efforts?  N"o; 


BLACK  FRIDAY  281 

other  brokers,  who,  he  knew,  were  identified  with  the 
high-gold  party,  had  not  ceased  to  operate.  The  sight  of 
Tim  Taplin's  face  in  the  crowd  gave  him  something  of  a 
start,  but  smiling,  self-possessed,  he  faced  that  gentle- 
man. 

"Mr.  Strong  is  still  selling,  Tim  ?" 

"He  has  been  selling  all  morning,  sir,"  answered  the 
clerk,  in  a  low  tone,  "as  you  must  know,  sir." 

Dalton's  features  grew  rather  pinched.  Frequently,  as 
the  exigencies  of  business  had  demanded,  he  had  ap- 
peared in  that  room  in  the  past.  Eailroads,  banks, 
moneyed  institutions  were  connected'  with  it  by  wire  and, 
in  common  with  these  men  who  were  not  in  any  sense 
speculators,  Richard  Strong  had  need  of  a  daily  supply 
of  gold.  That  Mr.  Taplin  should  consider  him  still 
agent  of  his  employer  was  not  to  be  wondered  at,  and 
Charlie  made  no  haste  to  undeceive  him. 

"I  think  Mr.  Strong  is  much  worried,"  went  on  Tim, 
cautiously.  "He  had  set  his  heart  on  stemming  this 
movement,  or  conspiracy,  and  now — : 

"It's  likely  to  swamp  him,"  said  Charlie. 

"It  looks  as  if  it  would  swamp  anything,"  murmured 
Taplin,  gloomily,  as  he  glided  away. 

A  moment,  perhaps,  Dalton's  face  showed  a  trace  of 
compunction,  but  if  so,  another  emotion  replaced  it;  a 
sentiment  akin  to  greed,  avarice.  He  looked  about  him 


282  BLACK  FRIDAY 

more  impatiently,  when  suddenly  the  room  seemed  to 
whirl  around.  He  steadied  himself  at  the  fountain  rail 
and  smiled.  Faint  ? — nonsense  !  Then  he  remembered 
he  had  not  eaten  that  morning,  or  hardly  touched  food 
the  day  before;  that  he  had  been  living  on  his  nervous 
energies.  Xow  after  the  supreme  moment  he  found  them 
failing  him. 

"Ridiculous !"  he  told  himself,  and,  straightening  his 
frame,  looked  at  his  watch.  There  was  a  lull  in  the 
storm  and  he  hesitated. 

"Safe  enough  to  leave,  I  guess,"  he  thought.  "Any- 
how, I'm  going."  And  as  he  passed  out,  "One  hundred 
and  fifty,"  the  last  quotation  he  heard,  was  eminently  re- 
assuring. 

Without,  such  pandemonium  had  not  been  witnessed 
before  in  the  Street  since  the  days  when  the  patriots 
threw  down  the  statue  of  King  George  and  cut  off  its 
head,  or  when  they  marched  to  Trinity  to  compel  the 
rector  to  stop  praying  for  the  king  and  the  royal  family. 
!N"ow  it  was  not  a  work  of  art  the  throng  sought  to  de- 
molish, but  certain  members  of  the  "Erie  crowd." 

"That's  one  of  them.    I  saw  him  with  Fisk." 

In  the  midst  of  this  disappointed  host,  Dalton  found 
himself,  his  torn  coat  and  bent  hat  bearing  testimony  to 
the  difficulties  he  had  experienced  in  elbowing  his  way 
through  the  gathering.  He  was  conscious  of  a  painful 


BLACK  FRIDAY  283 

throbbing  of  his  temples ;  of  an  impression  of  the  sur- 
rounding scene,  vague,  indeterminate ;  of  hearing  plainly 
the  uproar,  yet  feeling  himself  in  an  indefinite  degree  re- 
mote from  it. 

Oblivious  alike  of  angry  glances  or  muttered  threats, 
the  young  man  walked  on.  The  fresh  air  revived  him; 
he  wanted  to  be  alone,  in  some  place  where  he  could 
think.  Pausing  irresolutely,  the  door  of  a  basement 
restaurant,  not  a  stone's  throw  from  the  center  of  dis- 
turbance, caught  his  eye,  and,  descending  the  steps,  he 
entered  a  small  grimy  room.  It  was  not  the  kind  of 
resort  he  was  wont  to  frequent,  and  now,  in  his  new- 
found opulence,  the  sawdust  floors,  the  sooty  walls,  ap- 
peared especially  incongruous.  But  he  was  hungry, 
weary,  and  minded  neither  the  character  of  the  fre- 
quenters nor  the  quality  of  the  steaming  lunch  that  was 
being  served.  He  even  felt  quietly  amused,  as,  seating 
himself  before  a  greasy  table,  he  took  off  his  hat 
and  began  nervously  to  fan  himself.  He  looked  straight 
before  him;  the  golden  profits  were  all  there;  tangible, 
firm.  Again  he  saw  the  chimerical  fractions  dancing 
before  his  eye;  once  more  pursued  them. 

"Gold— gold/'  he  repeated.  With  gold  all  could  be 
bought.  All  save — 

A  shadow  crossed  his  face,  but  the  buoyancy  of  the 


284  BLACK  FKIDAY 

moment  dispelled  the  passing  cloud.  Why  despair — that 
day  nothing  seemed  impossible — there  were  ways  even 
to  the  most  shining  goal. 

"Keg'lar  dinner,  sir?" 

"Anything,  and  a  glass  of  sherry." 

The  man  made  some  irrelevant  comment  and  vanished. - 
Still  Charlie  continued  to  review  the  events  of  the  morn- 
ing. His  contract  with  the  gold  clique  assured  him  a 
certain  portion  of  the  profits,  which  in  the  aggregate  al- 
ready could  be  figured  in  the  millions ;  besides  which,  he 
had  operated  a  little  for  himself  as  well  as  for  his  asso- 
ciates. The  sum  total  accumulating  to  him  made  a  show- 
ing altogether  satisfying.  He  repeated  it  several  times, 
The  figures  were  exciting,  stimulating.  Not  less  pleas- 
ing was  the  accompanying  thought  that  he  could  now 
sever  all  connection  with  Eichard  Strong;  terminate  the 
false  position  in  which  he  was  placed. 

Mechanically,  at  first,  he  began  to  eat ;  then  with  appe- 
tite. Horn-handle  knives,  pewter  spoons — all  were  one 
to  him.  The  stew  had  a  flavor  Delmonico's  lunches  had 
lacked;  his  color  came  back;  his  heart  began  to  bound. 
The  strident  tones  of  a  news-vender  broke  in  upon  his 
thoughts,  and,  beckoning  to  the  lad,  he  bought  a  paper, 
hurriedly  glanced  over  it.  In  the  leading  article  a  few 
sentences  caught  his  eye.  "They  have  tampered  with 
the  government  *  *  precipitated  a  cataclysm  * 
the  gold-room  is  doomed  *  *  its  walls  will  topple/* 


BLACK  FRIDAY  285 

Scornfully  he  put  by  the  paper ;  let  the  editor  rail  and 
rave;  they — the  gold  crowd — must  expect  a  certain 
amount  of  opprobrium !  What  did  it  matter  ?  People 
always  threw  stones  at  success;  at  the  same  time,  they 
never  failed  to  bend  to  it.  Abuse  and  worship  strangely 
intermingled.  The  golden  calf  was  at  once  an  idol  and 
a  target ;  and  so  it  would  always  be ! 

Charlie  laughed ;  he  opened  and  closed  his  hands  as  if 
to  test  the  strength  of  his  fingers;  then  pushed  back  hia 
chair.  The  clock  told  him  he  had  been  absent  a  little 
over  a  quarter  of  an  hour. 

"Wonder  how  high  it  is  now !"  he  thought,  and,  rising, 
left  the  table,  dropping  a  piece  of  silver  into  the  hand 
of  the  expectant  waiter  as  he  passed  through  the  door. 

The  movement  of  a  crowd  of  people  on  the  sidewalk  at 
first  carried  him  with  it,  but  soon  he  escaped  from  the 
tumultuous  stream. 

"Burn  them  out !" 

For  a  moment  Charlie  stood  and  watched  the  throng 
as  it  swept  on  toward  the  offices  of  Messrs.  Gould  and 
Fisk. 

"Now  what  good  will  that  do?"  thought  the  young 
man.  "What  fools  people  are  when  they  lose  their  heads ! 
All  the  same" — Charlie  shrugged  his  shoulders — "I 
shouldn't  care  to  be  there  when  they  arrive." 

And  turning,  he  again  darted  into  a  doorway  and  re- 
entered  the  gold-room. 


CHAPTER  IX 


"Mr.  Dalton  is  buying  gold,  sir,"  said  Tim  Tap- 
lin  as  he  entered  the  office  of  his  employer  that 
morning. 

Mr.   Strong-  glanced  up  from  his  desk. 

"He  seems  to  be  acting  for  the  clique,"  went  on  Mr. 
Taplin,  in  a  puzzled  tone.  "I  don't  understand  it." 

"Has  he  been  here  to-day?" 

A  negative  response  and  Mr.  Strong  looked  down. 
The  young  man's  trips  to  Washington — the  "personal 
business"  to  be  attended  to — there  seemed  little  room  for 
doubt  hosy  Charlie  had  been  occupied  at  the  capital  city ! 
Mr.  Strong  recalled,  too,  Dalton's  remarks  about  Fisk — 
Grant — 

"They  say  the  president  has  been  sequestered  by  the 
clique,  sir,"  went  on  the  clerk,  anxiously.  Eichard 
Strong  wheeled  around  in  his  chair.  "The  Street  is  full 
of  the  rumor  that  he  was  on  his  way  to  Washington,  but 
was  lured  away  to  a  small  place  remote  from  telegraphic 
communication.  There's  a  story  about  an  old  friend 
286 


NOON  287 

who  was  dying  and  Grant's  being  induced  to  stop  off. 
And  now  he  couldn't  order  the  sale  of  government  gold 
if  he  wanted  to — at  least,  that's  what  they  say,"  added 
the  clerk,  deprecatorily. 

Mr.  Strong  made  no  response,  but  his  face  had  grown 
serious,  and  for  some  time  he  did  not  move,  sitting  with 
his  eyes  fastened  on  a  single  point,  as  if  seeking  the  heart 
of  .this  new  and  unexpected  difficulty  that  had  arisen  to 
complicate  a  situation  already  sufficiently  involved.  If 
the  report  was  correct,  the  president's  apparent  inaction 
at  a  time  when  the  country  was  threatened  with  a  crisis, 
could  be  understood.  He  had  intimated  he  would  act; 
he  had  not  acted.  Was  it  because  he  could  not  act?  Iff 
seemed  incredible  he  should  thus  have  been  put  out  of 
the  contest,  and  yet  Eichard  Strong  knew  the  subtle  and 
devious  contrivances  of  which  the  clique  were  capable; 
the  resources  they  had  at  their  command,  and  the  lengths 
they  might  go  to  attain  their  purpose. 

But  to  have  practically  abducted  the  president  of  the 
United  States! 

"General  Grant  started  for  Washington  yesterday  af- 
ternoon," said  Mr.  Strong,  suddenly.  "Use  the  wire  and 
find  out  if  he  reached  there." 

While  waiting  the  confirmation  of  this  talk  of  the 
Street,  he  could  not  but  speculate  what  would  be  the  re- 
sult of  even  the  report  of  such  a  coup  on  the  part  of  the 


£88  BLACK  FKIDAY 

clique.  What  effect  would  this  tremendous  news  have 
upon  values;  what  moral  influence  would  it  exercise 
upon  the  members  of  the  pool  Kichard  Strong  had  or- 
ganized, and  which  was  already  struggling  against  for- 
midable odds? 

He  was  soon  to  learn.  Toward  noon  several  of  them 
sought  him  with  doleful  countenances,  intimating  a  de- 
sire to  withdraw  from  any  further  community  of  "short" 
interests. 

"It's  suicide  not  to,"  they  said. 

Kichard  Strong  did  not  gainsay  this  statement. 

"The  clique  have  offered  to  settle;  why  should  we  not 
save  what  we  can  ?" 

"Why  not?"  he  answered. 

"Then  you,  too,  will  compromise  ?"  they  eagerly  asked. 

"I  ?"    The  veins  stood  out  on  his  forehead.    "No !" 

"But  with  Grant  in  the  hands  of  the  clique,  remote 
'from  telegraphic  communication,  what  hope  is  left  ?  You 
will  be  ruined." 

"I  do  not  know,"  said  Kichard  Strong,  "just  what  hope 
is  left,  as  you  term  it,  but  I  know  I  am  committed  to  one 
course.  For  my  part,  I  do  not  believe  General  Grant  is 
a  man  lightly  turned  from  his  destination  or  his  pur- 
pose. I  know  such  a  statement,  unsupported,  is  unsat- 
isfactory. For  myself — and  this  will  sound  equally  rea- 
sonless— I  can  only  say  there  are  exigencies  wherein  a 


NOON  289 

man  acts  in  a  certain  way  because  he  can  not  act  other- 
wise. Call  it  obstinacy,  suicide,  what  you  please;  you 
are  free  to  withdraw." 

Which  they  did,  and  Mr.  Strong  continued  to  throw- 
over  securities  to  the  waves  without  quelling  them.  How 
many  millions  had  the  pool  he  represented  traded  in? 
The  total  transactions  of  the  gold-room  were  already 
close  to  the  half-billion  mark.  Even  he  could  not  but 
begin  to  feel  appalled  by  the  magnitude  of  the  trading; 
figures  had  come  to  mean  nothing ;  sober  calculation  had 
run  riot  and  anarchism  was  the  result. 

"One  hundred  and  sixty !" 

He  had  walked  into  the  adjoining  office  and  was  lis- 
tening to  the  telegraph  instrument  that  connected  with 
the  gold-room. 

"Sixty— sixty-one— " 

His  eye  followed  the  flying  fractions.  When  would 
he  hear  from  the  capital  city?  He  began  to  ex- 
perience impatience  over  the  delay  in  procuring  authen- 
tic information;  intolerance  at  thus  being  obliged  to 
grope  in  the  dark.  But  the  news  came  at  length : 

"The  president  is  not  in  Washington." 

It  was  true,  then;  indubitable;  a  fact!  That  Grant 
had  been  decoyed  away  he  could  no  longer  fail  to  believe. 
Simultaneously  with  the  confirmation  of  this  rumor, 
came  the  noisy  expression  of  a  startling  announcement: 


290  BLACK  FKIDAY 

"The  gold  corner  is  complete !  The  gold  corner  is 
complete !" 

Several  voices  at  first  were  crying  it  on  the  thorough- 
fare below;  the  turbulent  crowd  took  it  up;  their  tones 
pierced  the  air.  Mr.  Strong  looked  at  them  angrily. 
Could  one  believe  such  harbingers  of  evil;  sheep  that 
bleated  one  after  the  other? 

"Impossible !"  he  said,  folding  his  arms,  as  if  with  a 
word  he  would  dispose  of  the  matter. 

"The  gold  corner—" 

He  closed  the  window,  but  he  could  not  shut  out  the 
memory  of  the  faces  below,  or  exclude  entirely  the  noise 
of  outside  tumult.  A  sharp,  quick  sound  at  his  elbow 
soon,  however,  arrested  his  attention.  Click !  Click ! 
The  metallic  beating  of  the  soaring  quotations  pervaded 
the  office ;  it  seemed  in  consonance  with  the  throbbing  of 
his  temples.  He  strove  to  think  of  what  should  now 
be  done ;  if  he  had  left  anything  undone ;  but  the  futility 
of  his  own  efforts  came  over  him  like  a  revelation.  A 
feeling  of  surprise  mingled  with  his  other  emotions ;  that 
Grant,  the  great  strategist  on  the  field  of  battle,  should 
have  been  overcome  by  the  machinations  of  the  gold 
crowd !  The  honor  and  integrity  of  the  chief  executive 
he  never  doubted ;  Grant's  enemies  he  knew  would  offer 
harsh  criticisms;  the  country  would  talk,  but  Eichard 
Strong  only  experienced  disappointment ;  regret. 

"A  telegram,  sir !" 


NOON  291 

Absently  Mr.  Strong  took  it,  opened  it.  It  had  been 
sent  from  a  little  town  not  far  from  Washington.  Whom 
did  he  know  there?  Suddenly  his  eyes  flashed  as  they 
caught  the  name  of  the  sender.  The  president — the  mes- 
sage was  from  him  !  Mr.  Grant  might  be  sequestered,  but 
he  was  not  isolated.  Quickly  Richard  Strong  scanned  the 
contents ;  then  turned  to  the  telegraph  instrument : 

"Gold ! — one  hundred  and  eighty — " 

Was  it  too  late?  Would  the  president  be  able  to  in- 
tervene only  after  the  injury  had  been  done;  after  the 
corner  had  been  actually  consummated  ?  These  thougths 
crossed  his  mind  as  he  rapidly  indited  the  message. 

"Send  this  at  once,"  he  said  to  the  telegraph  operator. 
Then  turning  to  Tim  Taplin,  he  added  shortly:  "Sell 
ten  million  gold  at  the  market." 

It  was  a  culminating  command;  a  final  effort  to  ar- 
rest for  the  moment  the  upward  trend  of  the  metal.  Even 
as  he  gave  the  order,  he  knew  that  possibly  the  battle  had 
already  been  fought  and  won  by  the  gold  crowd ;  that  he 
was,  perhaps,  only  committing  the  last  of  his  treasures 
to  the  deep. 

While  waiting,  he  was  strangely  calm.  Panoramic 
glimpses  of  the  hard  and  arduous  struggle,  his  life, 
floated  before  him.  Could  it  be  that  all  he  had  attained 
could  be  swept  away  at  a  breath  ?  A  fragment  of  one  of 
Mr.  Beecher's  sermons  came  to  his  mind:  "A  man  is 
rich  according  to  what  he  is ;  not  according  to  what  he 


292  BLACK  FRIDAY 

has."  He  thought  it  strange  he  should  think  of  that  now. 

"You  will  find  me  at  the  gold-room." 

As  Mr.  Strong  with  these  words  passed  out  of  the  of- 
fice and  down  the  corridor,  Tim  Taplin,  who  had  just 
come  in  from  the  Street,  looked  after  him  gloomily. 

"The  pool  has  failed !  It  will  have  to  settle  with  the 
gold  crowd !" 

On  every  hand  expressions  of  this  nature  had  met 
Tim's  ears,  and  now,  as  he  stood  at  the  corner  of  his  desk, 
leaning  his  head  on  his  hand,  they  repeated  themselves  in 
his  mind.  For  the  first  time  his  confidence  in  his  em- 
ployer had  suffered  a  rude  set-back;  already  upon  the 
very  walls  he  seemed  to  read  the  fatal  handwriting.  He 
felt  himself  as  the  small  actor  in  a  great  drama,  an  in- 
separable part  of  the  rapidly  unfolding  denouement. 
Absorbed  for  some  moments  in  these  mournful  rumina- 
tions, lost  to  his  immediate  surroundings,  he  did  not 
hear  the  door  of  the  office  open  and  shut. 

"Is  Mr.  Strong  in?" 

Tim  looked  up  with  a  start  to  perceive  a  young 
woman,  tall  and  erect,  whose  clear  eyes  were  fastened 
upon  him.  Where  had  he  seen  her  before  ?  Suddenly  an 
indefinite  impression  became  definite.  At  the  church; 
walking  toward  the  flower-covered  altar ;  very  beautiful, 
very  proud ;  very  cold — as  she  seemed  now ! 

"No ;  he  isn't  in,  Mrs.  Strong,"  Tim  hastened  to  reply. 


NOON  293 

"When  do  you  expect  him  ?" 

"He  did  not  say — and  it's  hard  to  tell — this  has  been, 
a  terrible  day  on  the  Street — "  Disconcerted,  the  clerk's 
voice  died  into  indefiniteness. 

The  widely  opened  eyes  continued  to  interrogate  him. 
Fragments  of  a  conversation  overheard  in  the  'bus  re- 
curred to  her :  "Some  of  the  most  prominent  men  in  the 
country  will  be  wiped  out — are  going  to  the  wall!" 
That  meant  losing  their  fortunes ;  their  money. 

"Is  Mr.  Strong  much  worried?" 

Tim  hesitated.  "Mr.  Strong  is,  of  course,  very 
anxious ;  he  has  staked  a  good  deal  to-day,  but — "  Tim's 
reservation  was  almost  guiltily  checked  and  he  ended 
by  looking  dejectedly  away. 

The  silence  grew  as  she  studied  him  until  Tim,  with 
an  effort,  again  spoke : 

"It  may  not  be  so  bad  after  all,  Mrs.  Strong,"  he 
said,  and  raised  his  eyes  to  her  face  when  he  suddenly 
became  aware  of  a  change  in  her. 

The  proud  coldness  had  been  touched  by  a  sudden 
radiance. 

"As  Mr.  Strong  is  so  busy  and  so  worried,  I  won't 
stop  and  trouble  him  to-day/"  she  said.  "You  need 
not  even  tell  him  I  was  here." 

A  moment  she  smiled  bewilderingly  at  Tim;  then 
moved  toward  the  door. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE   END   OP   THE   DAY 

As  Charlie  again  entered  the  gold-room  and  strode 
forward  to  the  indicator  which  marked  the  trend  of 
values,  that  instrument  showed  a  slightly  reactionary 
movement.  Whence  came  it?  What  new  undercur- 
rent was  moving?  The  young  man  first  looked 
surprised ;  then  frowned  and  turned  to  watch  the  sway- 
ing throng,  the  frenzied  faces.  The  strain  he  had  been 
under  at  the  beginning  of  the  day  was  renewed ;  became 
an  unnatural  tension.  He  strove  to  throw  it  off. 

"Pshaw!  It's  nothing.  A  point  or  two — whafs 
that?" 

But  when  emphasized  by  another!  He  stood  as  a 
man  in  a  dream;  he  seemed  unlike  himself;  moved' 
hither  and  thither  in  a  chaos  of  thoughts.  Could  it  be 
possible — was  it  possible  that  the  clique  had  begun  to 
lose  its  grip  ?  Again  he  felt  the  need  of  more  adequate 
instructions  from  headquarters.  What  was  the  matter 
with  the  controlling  spirits  ?  Apparently  he  was  forgot- 
ten ;  lost  sight  of  in  the  swirl.  At  a  loss,  he  began  once 
294 


THE  END  OF  THE  DAY  295 

more  to  buy  cautiously  when  suddenly,  "Sell! —  one- 
thirty!"  came  from  his  left,  while  at  almost  the  same 
time,  "Buy ! — one-sixty !"  shrieked  the  piercing  voice  of 
a  Fisk  broker  from  the  other  side  of  the  room. 

A  feeling  of  consternation  assailed  Dalton.  What 
sort  of  chaos  was  this  ?  The  gold  crowd,  made  overcon- 
fident by  their  early  triumphs,  seemed  now  to  be  fighting 
without  plan  or  organization.  He  saw  his  profits — 
the  fortune  he  coveted,  vanishing  like  a  puff  of  smoke. 

With  a  confused  consciousness  he  endeavored  to  "cov- 
er" his  own  holdings.  They  were  absorbed,  but  to  his  dis- 
may, at  widely-varying  prices,  as  the  adverse  movement 
made  itself  more  manifest.  Charlie  again  paused; 
leaned  against  the  wall,  and,  taking  a  pad  from  his 
pocket,  began  to  figure,  his  usually  lucid  brain  ex- 
periencing unwonted  difficulty  in  the  simplest  calcula- 
tions. Oblivious  of  his  surroundings — the  sound  of 
strife,  the  clamorous  multitude — new  hope  sprang  into 
his  breast;  renewed  confidence  in  his  leaders. 

The  check  was  but  temporary.  Certainly  there  had 
been  no  federal  interference;  the  clique  had  been  left 
to  its  own  devices;  under  the  circumstances,  they  must 
prevail  in  the  end.  With  the  assurance,  came  another 
thought.  What  did  Richard  Strong  think  of  his  presi- 
dent now  ?  An  honest  man  ?  Perhaps,  but  a  tool — 

All  at  once  a  great  shout  resolved  itself  into  a  cHoms 
of  voices  that  spread  far  and  wide. 


296  BLACK  FKIDAY 

"The  government  is  selling  gold!" 

Like  a  thunderbolt  the  news  struck  the  Street. 

"The  government  is  selling! — .selling! — '' 

The  gold  coterie  stood  aghast.  Gjant  intervening  to 
thwart  their  plans?  Impossible!  The  exultant  voice3 
of  the  opposition  dissipated  any  uncertainty  or  linger- 
ing doubts. 

"Down  with  the  traitors!" 

Many  of  the  victims  of  the  raid  recovered  their 
strength;  those  who  had  been  crippled  forgot  their 
wounds  and  sprang  into  the  lines,  animated  by  but  ono 
purpose. 

<rDeath  to  the  wreckers!" 

Like  the  terrible  recoil  of  a  bursting  wave  propelled 
by  storm  and  tide,  the  waters  of  vengeance  and  fury 
swept  back  upon  the  conspirators.  They  saw  their  doom 
coming ;  felt  themselves  being  swallowed  up ;  carried  out 
beyond  their  depth.  Yet  feebly  they  struggled. 

"Kogues!    Kascals!" 

Around  Charlie,  men  seemed  fighting  in  a  cloud. 

"Curse  you,  Dalton !"  said  an  angry  voice  at  his  elbow. 
"What  do  you  mean?" 

The  distorted  face,  looking  into  his,  slowly  resolved 
itself  into  that  of  Jim  Jubilee ;  but  the  young  man,  like 
one  who  has  exhausted  emotion,  felt  alike  indifferent 
to  that  gentleman's  condemnation  or  approval.  He  did 


THE  END  OF  THE  DAY  297 

the  strangest  thing  possible  for  him  to  do — the  thing 
he  least  felt  like  doing — and  smiled. 

"I  beg  your  pardon/'  he  said. 

"Oh,  I  don't  suppose  you  knew  that  Kichard  Strong 
saw  Grant  here  in  New  York  and  that  when  we  thought 
the  president  was  all  right,  Strong  managed  to  reach 
him  with  a  telegram !  You  didn't  know  that !" 

Charlie  started.  So  Eichard  Strong  had  turned  the 
tide  of  the  day's  battle,  after  all !  By  what  power  or 
influence  with  the  president?  It  did  not  occur  to  Dai- 
ton  to  question  the  veracity  of  Fisk's  statement,  or  to 
ask  regarding  the  source  of  this  unexpected  information. 

"You  stood  by  us  to  a  certain  point  and  then — damn 
you! — you  sold  us  out  to  Kichard  Strong,"  resumed 
Fisk. 

"Would  you  believe  me,  if  I  denied  knowledge  of 
the  telegram,  or  of  any  meeting  with  Grant  ?" 

The  other  responded  with  a  brusk  and  emphatic 
negative.  .»,  *  •«  >.  ,  * . 

"Then  I  won't  deny  it."  And  Dalton  turned  from 
the  angry  tool  -of  the  Erie  coterie. 

His  throat  felt  on  a  sudden  dry  and  sore;  he  looked 
for  a  moment  upon  the  sea  of  faces,  the  moving  arms; 
a  tumult  of  excited  voices  seemed  to  draw  him  toward  a 
vortex. 

"One  million  at  thirty-five — thirty — " 

It  was  Mr.  Strong  himself  who  spoke.    Dalton  did  not 


298  BLACK  FRIDAY 

even  start  as  he  regarded  him.  He,  too,  was  pale;  be- 
tween his  brows  was  a  deep  furrow. 

"Two  million  at  thirty — three  million — " 

Money  was  now  loaning  at  two  hundred  and  fifty  per 
cent. 

Charlie  Dalton  glanced  up  at  the  clock.  How  slowly 
the  pointers  moved !  He  breathed  deeply ;  a  certain  ex- 
hilaration seemed  wearing  off;  he  was  awakening  as  to 
the  after-effects  of  an  opiate. 

"Brooks  and  Brown  have  failed !"  "Burton,  Jones 
and  Company  have  gone  under !" 

Amid  the  uproar  he  felt  an  unnatural  numbness:  a 
deeper  consciousness  of  the  perversion  of  things.  Me- 
thodically he  acted  now;  almost  against  his  will. 

"Alden,  Marks  and  Belden  are  swamped!"  "Marsh 
and  Burton,  engulfed !" 

Other  eyes  than  his  were  furtively  regarding  the 
clock.  Never  before  had  the  iron  indicators  so  lagged 
in  their  task  of  marking  off  the  minutes.  A  common 
longing  seemed  to  fill  the  minds  of  all — the  desire  for 
relief  from  the  tension — to  witness  the  close  of  the  day ! 
No  matter  what  the  end  might  show;  waste  or  havoc; 
disruption  or  disorganization — it  would  be  welcomed  as 
a  lull  in  the  storm.  Suddenly 

"Trinity  bells,  with  their  hollow  lungs 
And  their  vibrant  lips  and  brazen  tongues," 

began  to  ring.  Clear,  penetrating  notes  amid  the  tem- 
pest, the  reverberations  were  carried  far  and  wide. 


THE  END  OF  THE  DAY  299 

"One— two— three— " 

The  day  was  over !  The  Exchange  closed  until  to- 
morrow. Men  wiped  the  perspiration  from  their  brows. 
At  last  they  could  look  around,  take  their  bearings,  and 
bury  their  dead ! 

Like  a  man  dazed,  Dalton  made  his  way  from  the 
room.  Occasionally  he  lifted  his  hand  to  his  brow  and 
pressed  it  there ;  his  fingers  were  icy-cold,  but  something 
hot  seemed  burning  into  his  brain.  The  day — what  had  it 
brought  for  him?  The  whole  affair  had  been  a  miser- 
able, tremendous  fiasco.  Still  he  walked  toward  the  office 
of  the  clique;  possibly  some  one  there  could  hold  out 
a  straw  for  the  morrow.  Four  stalwart  policemen 
guarded  the  door;  a  hooting,  jeering  mob  circulated 
about  the  building. 

"I  should  like  to  go  in,"  said  Charlie. 

"Can't,"  replied  one  of  the  quartet  of  burly  senti- 
nels. 

"But  I  have  personal  business  with  Mr.  Gould." 

"Lots  of  people  have  to-day,"  answered  the  man,  with 
a~chuckle.  "But  he  ain't  at  home  to  callers.  When  he 
saw  them — "  jerking  his  thumb  at  the  crowd — "com- 
ing, he  just  made  for  the  back  door,  down  the  alley,  and 
I  guess  he  won't  be  back  to  attend  to  business  to-day." 

Dalton  stared  before  him  a  moment,  then  turned 
mechanically  and  walked  away. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE    MASTER    OF    THE    SITUATION 

A  dark,  dreary,  rainy  day!  But  men  walked, 
unmindful  of  dampness  or  gloom  over  the  field 
of  battle.  Where  the  contest  had  occurred,  the 
vicinity  of  the  gold-room,  the  scene  resembled  a  Golgo- 
tha— a  place  of  skulls — and  people  of  all  classes  and 
conditions  came  to  contemplate,  if  not  to  mourn.  Law- 
yers, of  a  speculative  rather  than  litigious  turn  of  mind ; 
clerks  that  had  lost  their  positions;  merchants  now  out 
of  trade,  jaundiced  and  panic-stricken  Israelites ;  visitors 
from  the  rural  districts — all  served  to  swell  the  throng 
that  once  more  packed  the  sidewalks  of  Broad  Street. 

Innumerable  burrows,  or  basement  offices  on  Wall  or 
William  Streets  were  now  closed  and  deserted,  and  their 
tenants,  the  "human  woodchucks,"  hovered  on  the  out- 
skirts of  the  gathering,  timorous,  awed,  ready  at  any 
moment  to  frisk  back  into  their  holes.  Young  men 
with  old  heads  looked  older;  the  Oily  Gammons  wore 
a  mask  of  suffering.  A  number  of  bubble  companies 
had  exploded  with  scarcely  a  "pop,"  and  many  bankers 
300 


THE  MASTER  OP  THE  SITUATION       301 

and  brokers  spawned  in  over-gorgeous  panoply,  were 
wiped  out  in  a  breath. 

With  face  like  that  of  a  Roman  senator,  set  and  firm, 
the  rugged  commodore  strode  into  the  street  and  walked 
toward  his  office.  But  a  few  days  before,  he  had  been 
driving  with  his  fair  bride  of  six  weeks ;  bowling  along, 
care-free  in  his  light  wagon,  drawn  by  two  blood  trot- 
ters. Now,  perforce,  he  turned  from  the  solace  of  the- 
myrtle  to  the  aggravations  of  finance,  exchanging  the 
true  lover's  knot  for  the  entanglements  of  the  market. 
Behind  him  came  another  figure,  bent,  old ;  moving  with 
difficulty,  as  if  scarcely  able  to  bear  up  beneath  the 
weight  of  broken  fortunes  and  years.  As  he  clattered 
and  shuffled  along  with  the  assistance  of  a  hickory  cane, 
the  burden  of  his  thoughts  found  trembling  utterance: 

"Frisky  boys! — didn't  gold  bile ?— Lord— Lord  help 
us!" 

Pausing  before  the  office  of  Richard  Strong  he  stood 
wagging  his  head  uncertainly  for  a  moment,  then  slowly 
began  to  mount  the  steps.  The  destination  of  many 
others  that  morning  lay  at  the  place  of  business  of  that 
financier,  for  when  the  smoke  of  battle  had  cleared  the 
day  before,  it  was  discovered  that  Mr.  Strong,  as  chair- 
man of  the  pool  organized  to  preserve  normal  conditions, 
held  in  his  grasp  the  control  of  the  situation.  Yet  at  what 
a  risk  he  had  gained  this  mastery  none  knew  but  him- 


302  BLACK  FRIDAY 

self.  Had  Grant  not  become,  after  reading  the  bed- 
side of  his  comrade,  suddenly  distrustful  of  the  zeal  of 
his  friends  and  of  the  influences  that  had  been  brought 
to  bear  upon  him;  had  he  not  thereupon  resolved  for 
his  own  peace  of  mind.,  to  telegraph  immediately  to 
Washington  to  get  the  latest  news  of  the  situation,  the 
gold  clique  would  have  succeeded.  Then  it  was  Grant 
had  made  the  disquieting  discovery  he  was  twenty  miles 
removed  from  telegraphic  communication.  At  once  he 
had  acted  with  great  promptitude,  his  suspicions  thor- 
oughly aroused,  and  calling  for  a  conveyance,  he  had 
driven  post-haste  to  the  nearest  telegraph  station,  wired 
to  Washington  and  to  Eichard  Strong. 

The  strain  of  Black  Friday,  however,  had  left  ita 
impress  upon  the  face  of  Mr.  Strong.  His  expression 
was  that  of  a  seafaring  man  who  had  brought  his  vessel 
through  a  crisis  and  now  would  fain  leave  the  bridge. 
But  there  was  yet  work  to  be  done. 

In  the  outer  hall  Uncle  Samuel,  with  quavering  ac- 
cents, asked  to  see  the  financier. 

"Just  say  it's  Mr.  Brewster  and — he's  come  to  settle." 

For  some  time  the  old  man — he  who  had  once  directed 
the  destinies  of  great  "pools"  and  "corners" — was  kept 
waiting  without.  He  twitched  in  his  chair  uneasily 
and  often  raised  his  hand  to  his  wrinkled  forehead. 
About  him  sharp-faced  boys  with  messages  appeared  and 


THE  MASTEK  OF  THE  SITUATION      303 

disappeared.  Eegarding  him  curiously,  the  clerks  nudged 
one  another. 

"That's  Uncle  Sam'l!"  "The  Ursa  Major!"  "The 
Old  Bear!" 

In  his  day  how  many  men  had  danced  attendance  at 
his  heck  and  call !  Now  he,  himself,  had  become  a  pa- 
tient loiterer  before  the  offices  of  others.  But  oblivious 
alike  of  the  attention  he  attracted  and  of  his  surround- 
ings, his  thin  lips  continued  to  mutter  in  aimless 
fashion :  "It  was  like  the  old  days  in  Kock  Island  and 
Southern — when  we  squeezed  'em  both  ways — " 

"Mr.  Strong  will  see  you  now." 

Uncle  Samuel  arose,  followed  the  speaker  and  a  few 
moments  later  stood  in  a  doorway,  leaning  on  his  cane 
and  blinking  a  little  in  the  light. 

"How  d'ye  do,  Mr.  Strong?"  In  the  shadow  he 
dimly  divined  the  countenance  of  a  man  near  the  win- 
dow. "I've  come  to  settle."  Again  he  wiped  his  glasses, 
adjusted  them.  "If  I  ain't  mistaken,  you're  master  of 
the  situation."  As  he  spoke  he  rubbed  his  withered 
hands.  "Master  of  the  situation!"  he  repeated,  and 
seemed  to  sink  into  a  half -reverie. 

"Well,  sir?" 

A  short,  implacable  voice  caused  him  io  straighten 
suddenly. 

<fWhat's  your  price?"  said  Uncle  Samuel,  in  accents 
he  endeavored  to  make  equally  hard  and  incisive. 


304  BLACK  FRIDAY 

Time  was  when  the  shrewd  old  miser  driving  a  bar- 
gain presented  a  formidable  figure,  but  now  his  tones, 
despite  the  ancient  habit  of  cut-and-dried  bartering,  be- 
trayed a  wavering  weakness  and  anxiety. 

"I  cal'late  you  kin  dictate/'  he  went  on.  "'Tain't 
much,  this  time,  though!  Since  you  cleaned  me  out 
before,  my  credit  ain't  been  the  best." 

"What  do  you  expect?" 

The  old  man  rubbed  his  chin  reflectively.  The  con- 
spiracy of  the  church  recurred  to  him  forcibly;  the 
part  he  had  played  against  Richard  Strong. 

"I  don't  expect  nuthin',"  he  answered.  "Xo;  'tain't 
mercy  I've  come  for" — with  a  rough  gesture — "only  to 
settle !" 

A  question;  Uncle  Samuel  shifted  his  cane;  his  face 
became  more  twisted,  seamed  and  furrowed. 

"Why  did  I  buy?  It  was  on  account  of  a  note  I 
gave  the  little  church  at  home.  It  had  come  due  and 
they  wrote  me.  It  seemed  like  a  chance  for  me  to  make 
the  money  to  pay  the  note  before — but  'tain't  no  use  giv- 
ing reasons.  The  little  church  can't  realize  on  that — " 

His  voice  drew  to  a  close;  he  leaned  his  chin  on  his 
cane.  Perhaps  in  imagination  he  heard  the  comments  of 
the  country  folk  of  his  old  home:  "Uncle  Samuel  gave 
to  the  Lord  and  then  took  it  back  agairu  He  let  his  note 
be  dishonored." 


THE  MASTER  OF  THE  SITUATION      305 

The  old  man  clasped  his  hands.  "I've  been  a  nig- 
gardly, grudgin'  old  critter/'  he  went  on.  "But  it's 
been  in  my  mind,  ever  since — since  you  cleaned  me  out, 
to  make  enough  to  take  up  that  note.  When  I  was  rich  I 
kept  puttin'  it  off.  It  seemed  an  easy  thing  to  put  off 
the  Lord.  But  when  I  was  down,  it  ha'nted  me.  I 
couldn't  read  the  Good  Book  for  it.  On  every  page  I 
saw :  ^You've  cheated  the  Lord ;  you've  cheated  the  Lord !' 
So  I  sot  out  to  get  it  back — peddlin'  in  a  few  sheers. 
But  luck  has  been  ag'in  me.  I  kinder  feel  now  as  if 
I'd  never  settle  it." 

To  this  rambling  discourse,  Mr.  Strong  returned  no 
response. 

It  may  be  he  was  recalling  a  day  in  the  distant  past 
when  he  had  first  visited  the  Street;  that  early  impres- 
sion of  the  Exchange  and  the  men  who  had  controlled 
the  reins  of  affairs ;  when  head  and  shoulders  above  them 
all  was  the  little  man  whose  thumb  resembled  the  wiz- 
ard's wand.  "Samuel  says :  'Thumbs  up' !"  and  the 
market  had  swayed  at  his  words.  But  men  come  and  go. 
Now  the  erstwhile  shrewd  old  gentleman  sat  bowed 
down;  his  eyes,  lack-luster;  age  pressing  heavily  upon 
his  bent  shoulders. 

The  man  at  the  window  leaned  over  Ms  desk ;  hastily 
wrote  a  few  lines. 

"Take  this  to  Mr.  Taplin." 

The  words  dissipated  the  visitor's  abstraction.     Ke« 


306  BLACK  FKIDAY 

called  to  a  sense  of  Ms  surroundings.,  mechanically  he 
grasped  the  paper.  The  old  instinct  to  haggle  feebly 
reasserted  itself.  He  remembered  he  had  been  this 
man's  relentless,  although  unsuccessful,  adversary. 

"You  ain't  charging  me  any  more  than  the  others?" 
he  asked  cautiously.  "It's  for  you  to  dictate,  but — " 

Adjusting  his  iron-rimmed  spectacles,  he  held  the 
paper  close  to  his  face  and  gave  a  start  of  surprise. 

"I  cal'late  you've  made  a  mistake,"  he  said.  "This 
says  to  settle  at — " 

"There's  no  mistake." 

The  paper  trembled  in  Uncle  Samuel's  hand. 

"No  mistake ! — I  could  pay  the  church ! — You  don't 
mean  it! — you  can't  mean  it! — " 

Eichard  Strong  arose.  The  other's  changed  expres- 
sion was  lost  upon  him;  he  regarded  Uncle  Samuel  ab- 
sently, a  trace  of  impatience  in  his  manner.  Uncle 
Samuel  also  got  up ;  turned  slowly  away ;  at  the  thresh- 
old, however,  he  stopped  and  looked  back.  His  eyes 
were  moist;  his  face,  engrossed  o'er  and  o'er  with  lines 
of  venality  and  avarice,  appeared  suddenly  illumined. 

"Kichard  Strong,  you're  the  only  man  I  always  hated. 
You  crushed  me  once  and  now — you've  crushed  me  again 
— but  not  the  same  way !" 

The  old  man's  voice  choked;  hastily  he  felt  for  the 
door;  opened  it;  Mr.  Strong  was  alone. 

Leaning  back  in  his  chair,  he  looked  onf.    A  procea- 


THE  MASTER  OF  THE  SITUATION      307, 

sion  of  melancholy  figures  streamed  through  the  rain 
on  the  other  side  of  the  street.  For  the  moment  he  re- 
garded them,  forgetful  of  Uncle  Samuel,  the  gold  crowd, 
or  the  excitement  of  yesterday.  Another  matter  was 
pressing  on  his  mind,  and,  turning  to  his  desk,  he  picked 
up  a  missive  lying  there;  read  it  again: 

"Will  you  please,  come  to  the  house?  I  want  to  ex- 
plain. Elinor." 

To  explain !  Long  he  looked  at  it.  What  was  there 
to  explain?  What  could  be  explained? 

"Excuse  me,  sir;  the  office  is  full  of  people." 

The  man  at  the  desk  drew  himself  up  with  a  start.  It 
seemed  as  if  the  other  had  broken  in  upon  the  privacy 
of  his  inmost  thoughts. 

"Well,  you  know  the  basis  of  settlement,"  he  re- 
turned. 

"Yes,  sir — but  the  Reverend  Doctor  Clement,  sir,  he 
seems  to  feel  very  bad  and — if  you  would  see  him — " 

"Treat  him  like  the  others — and  send  a  check  for  the 
amount  of  his  losses  to  Mr.  Beecher's  Tabernacle — for 
the  poor." 

Still  Tim  lingered.  "Mr.  Dalton  has  come  in,"  ne 
continued.  "He  was  asking  for  you,  sir." 

The  letter  slipped  from  Richard  Strong's  fingers. 

"You  can  show  Mr.  Dalton  in — now  I" 

"Yes,  sir." 

Tim  departed.  A  moment  later  the  door  opened  and 
Charlie  walked  in. 


CHAPTER  XII 

i»,  THE  DAY  OF  SETTLEMENT 

"Good  morning,  Mr.  Strong." 

The  speakers  appearance  was  that  of  a  man  who 
had  not  slept  the  night  before.  His  eyes  were  dull; 
his  face  unshaven.  In  twenty-four  hours  his  features 
had  become  pinched  and  his  color  a  grayish  hue. 
But  he  bore  himself  with  an  effort  at  steadiness, 
if  not  with  the  assurance  he  had  been  wont  to 
assume. 

Mr.  Strong  did  not  answer;  nor  did  he  look  at  the 
other. 

Come  to  the  house — I  want  to  explain — Elinor's  words 
reiterated  themselves  in  his  thoughts. 

Dalton  drew  nearer.  "As  you  know,  Mr.  Strong,"  he 
began  in  a  mechanical  voice,  "I  acted  with  the  gold 
crowd  yesterday;  bought  some  gold  for  them;  also 
some  for  myself — more  than  I  should.  The  gold  pur- 
chased for  them — under  instructions — I  have  nothing  to 
do  with.  That — bought  for  myself,  makes  it  unfortu- 
nately incumbent  upon  me  to  come  to  you  in  person — 
to  settle!" 


A  DAY  OF  SETTLEMENT  309 

Still  the  elder  man  sat  with  his  back  half -turned.  He 
noticed  that  the  letter  was  dated  September  twenty- 
third.  It  had  been  written,  then,  two  days  before  and 
had  lain  neglected  on  his  desk  that  Black  Friday. 

Dalton's  hands  opened  and  closed  nervously.  He 
was  conscious  of  feeling  sleepy;  tired;  of  something 
pressing  upon  his  brain. 

The  other  turned  in  his  chair.  "What  were  you  say- 
ing?" 

Charlie  flushed.  "I  was  explaining,"  he  remarked, 
with  an  effort  at  self-control. 

Mr.  Strong  glanced  at  the  missive.  I  want  to  ex- 
plain—  It,  too,  said  that. 

He  began  deliberately  to  tear  np  the  note. 

"Explaining— what  ?" 

"That  I  find  myself  the  possessor  of  some  gold — 
bought  from  you,  or  the  pool  you  represent,  at  a  high 
figure." 

"How  much — did  you  buy?  What  price — did  you 
pay?" 

Charlie  mentioned  the  amount  and  the  cost. 

The  other  offered  no  comment.  Dalton  felt  a  greater 
lassitude;  most  of  the  night  before  he  had  passed  on 
the  street  or  in  the  lobby  of  the  up-town  Exchange — 
the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel.  He  seemed  reaching  the  finale 
of  a  disagreeable  dream. 


310  BLACK  FKIDAY 

"The  terms  of  settlement  are — "  And  Mr.  Strong 
named  them. 

"Impossible!" 

The  man  at  the  desk  offered  no  response  to  the  ex- 
clamation. Dalton,  too,  now  became  silent.  He  watched 
the  rain — drip — drip — on  the  window-sill  and  go  splash- 
ing on  to  the  street.  A  little  gust  and  it  came  in  a 
wild  patter  against  the  pane.  In  the  room  the  shadows 
deepened.  An  over-vivid  consciousness  weighed  upon 
him,  hut  he  strove  to  recall  his  alertness;  to  fasten  his 
mind  yet  more  keenly  upon  the  matter  in  hand. 

"Of  course  the  pool  have  it  all  their  own  way,"  he 
continued  with  an  effort.  "But  don't  you  think  the 
penalty — rather  large?" 

The  other  again  disregarded  the  suggestion  and  Dai- 
ton  felt  that  his  observations  were  being  swept  aside  like 
chaff.  This  he  resented  and  experienced  at  once  irrita- 
tion and  dejection. 

"The  attempt  to  corner  gold  turned  out  to  your  ad- 
vantage," he  said  at  length.  "You've  made  a  great  deal 
of  money  out  of  it." 

"A  light  flashed  up  and  went  out  in  Eichard  Strong's 
eyes. 

"You  mean  I  am  beholden  to  the  gold  clique — to  you, 
perhaps?" 

Dalton  checked  himself,  looked  down. 


A  DAY  OF  SETTLEMENT  311 

"Not  that/'  he  returned,  and  traced  a  figure  with  his 
cane  on  the  carpet.  "I  don't  think  I  implied  that." 
He  felt  as  if  he  was  forcing  himself  to  speak;  to  con- 
tinue an  intolerable  part.  A  moment  he  struggled  with 
himself.  "Of  course  I  want  to  do  the  best  I  can."  He 
raised  his  glance.  '"You  will  make  it — " 

The  other  repeated  the  terms  he  had  first  specified. 

Charlie  bit  his  lip.    "Yes,  but—" 

Mr.  Strong  seemed  more  engrossed  in  the  papers  on 
the  desk  than  in  the  matter  in  hand. 

Across  Dalton's  mind  floated  the  fatal  figures.  All 
he  possessed  would  not  cover  the  loss.  He  would  be 
bankrupt!  Not  only  that,  but  in  Eichard  Strong's 
debt— his  debt ! 

Charlie  made  a  quick  gesture. 

"You  have  no  right — "  he  began. 

The  other  arose.  His  gray  eyes  rested  on  the  white 
face  of  the  young  man ;  looked  him  through  and  through. 

"You  talk  about  right!" 

Something  seemed  to  rise  between  them — out  of  a 
cloud — for  the  moment  Eichard  Strong  felt  the  moon- 
light bathing  him;  the  rush  of  the  wind.  He  strove  to 
put  it  aside ;  to  blind  his  eyes  to  the  picture. 

"You  lent  yourself  to  a  conspiracy  prepared  to  stop 
at  nothing — to  interest  government  officials — to  get  a 
corner  by  dishonest  means — to  steal  it — " 


312  BLACK  FRIDAY 

"Steal!"  Dalton's  face  changed.  He  was  no  longer 
pale.  "The  Street  doesn't  look  at  those  matters  in  that 
way." 

Mr.  Strong's  laugh  was  not  pleasant  to  hear.  "The 
Street!  It  does  not,  perhaps,  too  closely  differentiate 
between  an  honest  man  and  a — " 

Charlie's  control  was  fast  slipping  from  him.  "No 
man  shall  call  me — : 

"A  thief! — a  worse  than  thief!"  The  words  rang 
out  sharply. 

Dalton's  fist  clenched;  with  an  oath  he  sprang  upon 
the  other.  But  the  upraised  hand  was  arrested,  held 
in  a  grip  like  steel. 

"You  fool !  You  fool !"  said  a  voice.  "Do  not  tempt 
me  to  kill  you.  Once  I  intended  to — waited  for  you 
on  the  road — " 

Charlie  threw  himself  back.     "The  road!     What — " 

Suddenly  he  began  to  understand — that  night  of  the 
Eclipse  party — Elinor's  subsequent  illness — her  refusal 
to  see  him — 

"He  was  watching — was  behind  us — and  saw — " 

For  a  few  moments  neither  spoke.  The  younger  man 
stood  as  if  stunned.  A  rap  on  the  door  was  drowned 
by  the  rattle  and  rumble  of  a  passing  omnibus,  and  a 
loud  chorus  of  voices  on  the  street:  "Fisk  repudiates 
his  obligations !"  "All  about  the  suicide  of — " 


A  DAY  OF  SETTLEMENT  313 

The  rap  was  repeated  but  not  heard  ;  the  door  of  the 
office  opened.  A  lady  entered,  who  upon  sight  of  the 
two  men  stopped  short,  regarding  them  with  momen- 
tary hesitation  and  indecision.  She  started  to  speak 
when  — 

"But  I  tell  you  if  you  think  your  wife  —  "  began 
Charlie. 

Power  of  endurance  suddenly  deserted  his  listener. 
An  emotion  primeval,  terrible,  transformed  his  face.  In- 
voluntarily the  girl  drew  back,  half-concealed  by  the 
screen  of  a  great  book-case. 

"Hush  !"  he  breathed  hoarsely.  "Don't  mention  her 
name  !" 

The  young  man  made  an  aggressive  movement. 

"You  needn't  believe  me/'  he  said,  "but  you  can  be- 
lieve in  her." 


Whatever  else  Charlie  was,  or  had  been,  he  was  not  a 
coward.  Even  the  menace,  hatred,  written  on  the 
other's  face  did  not  deter  him. 

"Yes,  in  her  !"  he  reiterated.  "I  swear  to  you.  before 
that  night  —  " 

Richard  Strong  laughed  —  a  laugh  that  cut  the  listen- 
ing girl  like  a  knife. 

"Before  that  night!  Of  course!  Nothing  ever  does 
happen  before  —  " 


314  BLACK  FKIDAY 

"You  do  not  want  to  know  the  truth — " 

"The  truth !    From  your  lips — or  hers — " 

Something  seemed  to  deaden  his  senses.  He  saw  him- 
self as  a  grotesque  figure  in  a  terrible  comedy — a  play 
of  Moliere's  which  he  had  seen  some  years  ago — and 
left  before  it  had  been  finished ! 

"You  have  acted  a  lie — in  the  office  and  out  of  it. 
She  lied  at  the  altar.  She  has  lied  ever  since.  You 
are  both  liars — both !" 

He  spoke  against  his  will.  He  felt  himself  a  child 
unto  himself.  "Fool !  Triple  fool !"  Like  the  man  in 
the  play  he  opened  the  window  of  his  breast  to  his 
enemy.  He — self-contained — the  man  of  reserve !  It 
seemed  the  most  unnatural  part  of  that  unreal  farce. 

"Liars !  and  worse !" 

A  woman's  slender  figure  came  between  them. 

"Elinor!" 

It  was  the  younger  man  who  spoke.  But  it  was  to 
Richard  Strong  she  turned. 

"Why  are  you  here?" 

Meeting  his  look,  her  purpose  faded  from  her  mind ; 
only  his  words — the  words  she  had  overheard — filled 
her  brain  to  the  exclusion  of  all  else. 

"Liars !"  She  had  come  to  tell  him  the  truth,  yester- 
day and  again  to-day ;  to  confess  her  share  of  the  blame, 


A  DAY  OF  SETTLEMENT  315 

but  now  in  the  face  of  his  dark  accusing  glance,  pretext 
or  excuse  seemed  weak  and  unavailing. 

"Why  are  you  here  ?" 

Her  figure  straightened  involuntarily.  A  touch  of 
the  old  antagonism  coursed  through  her  veins;  chilled 
her.  Eepentance,  humility,  froze  within  her.  White 
as  marble,  she  stood  with  burning  eyes. 

"I  suppose/'  she  said,  "I  came  to  tell  you — lies'!" 

In  his  glance  shone  a  savage,  ironical  amusement.  "I 
can  believe  that/' 

Her  gaze  grew  brighter.  "Believe  what  you  please," 
she  cried. 

Quickly  Dalton  stepped  forward.  "Damn  it,  Elinor, 
why  don't  you  tell  him — " 

"Let  her  alone !"  The  voice  was  Eichard  Strong's, 
sharp,  commanding.  "She's  in  the  mood  to  tell  the 
truth." 

The  young  man  faced  him  passionately. 

"Since  she  won't  speak,  I  will — " 

"I  believe,"  interrupted  Eichard  Strong,  "our  busi- 
ness is  at  an  end." 

"But  I  tell  you  the  fault  was  mine;  she  never 
meant — " 

Mr.  Strong  turned  swiftly. 

"Are  you  willing  to  take  shelter  beneath  this  mag- 
nanimous pretext?" 


316  BLACK  FKIDAY 

The  dark  eyes  flashed  into  his;  she  drew  herself  up 
proudly.  "Take  shelter  P  she  said.  "No !  No !  All  I 
wish  is  to  be  free — to  leave  you — for  ever !" 

She  spoke  quickly,  almost  wildly.  He  wanted  the 
truth  and  yet  he  would  not  believe  her.  Why  resist? 
Bight  or  wrong,  his  way  was  the  only  way.  He  was 
always  triumphant — always  master  of  himself  and 
others.  Yesterday  she  had  thought  and'  hoped —  But 
now  her  sole  desire  was  to  escape  from  this  dominion ;  to 
put  herself  beyond  the  reach  of  his  bounty. 

With  an  exclamation  which  was  not  lost  upon  Eichard 
Strong,  Charlie  took  his  hat.  At  the  threshold  he  stopped 
and  looked  back.  He  was  ruined,, — but  his  glance  was 
not  that  of  one  vanquished. 

Through  a  rift  in  the  clouds  without,  the  sunlight 
had  broken  and  the  yellow  shaft  shot  into  the  narrow 
street.  From  the  eaves  the  rain  fell  sparkling.  Elinor 
waited  until  Dalton  had  had  time  to  leave  the  build- 
ing and  then  began  to  fasten  one  of  her  gloves. 

"If  you  are  ready  to  go,  I  will  call  a  carriage." 

Her  hand  trembled  a  little  with  the  button. 

"No;  I  prefer  to  walk." 

He  offered  no  demur.  The  sunlight  touched  her; 
she  moved  out  into  the  shadow.  He  thought  she  was 
going,  when — 

"My  father— has  had  a  sudden  attack/'  she  said;  "has 


A  DAY  OF  SETTLEMENT  317 

been  very  ill.  The  doctors  have  ordered  him  away— I 
am  going  with  him." 

He  did  not  answer. 

"We  are  going  to  France."  Her  voice  faltered  a  lit- 
tle. "You  will  never  be  troubled  with  me  again." 

He  held  open  the  door.    He  was  very  pale. 

"Good-by,"  she  said,  and  quickly  passed  out. 

He  started  forward,  her  name  on  his  lips,  but  clench- 
ing his  hands,  arrested  the  motion  j  closed  the  door. 
Still,  however,  he  stood  there.  A  footstep — was  it  she, 
returning  ? 

Some  one  knocked  and  he  stepped  back  as  the  chief 
clerk  entered. 

"They  say  they're  going  to  arrest  Corbin,  sir;  the 
relative  of  President  Grant." 

Mr.  Strong  stood  with  head  down-bent,  half-turned 
from  the  other. 

"Corbin?    Corbin?"  he  said  at  last. 

Tim  regarded  his  master  in  surprise. 

"You  were  speaking  about  him  only  the  other  day, 
sir.  It  was  through  him  the  clique  sought  to  reach 
the  president." 

The  other's  reply  was  an  indirect  one.  Had  he  heard 
Tim's  words  ? 

"I  believe  I'll  take  a  vacation  for  the  day,"  he  said 
absently.  "I'm  not  feeling  as  well  as  I  might." 


318  BLACK  FRIDAY 

The  chief  clerk  stared  at  his  employer;  his  manner 
was  strange,  unusual. 

"Very  good,  sir!"  said  Mr.  Taplin,  sympathetically, 
recovering  himself.  "Very  good!  A  little  fresh  air's 
what  you  want,  sir.  I  hope  you  meet  the  commodore," 
he  added. 

"The  commodore  P' 

"You're  going  to  take  out  the  team,  aren't  you,  sir? 
Well,  the  commodore  has  said  that  no  man  except  his 
brother  Jake  dares  pass  him  on  the  road." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

DALTON  IS  PUZZLED 

As  Elinor  left  the  office  she  almost  fancied  she 
heard  her  name  called.  So  strong  was  the  im- 
pression, an  instant  she  hesitated,  then,  smiling 
scornfully  at  herself,  dismissed  the  thought.  He,  care 
for  her  now  ?  He,  yield  to  a  moment's  weakness  ? 

Curious  glances  followed  her  as  she  walked  through 
the  outer  offices. 

"Wonder  if  she's  been,  settling?"  murmured  one  of 
the  clerks. 

"She  ?  That's  his  wife,"  answered  a  fellow  knight  of 
the  pen. 

Turning  into  the  narrow  street  Elinor  moved  on  with'" 
out  thought  of  where  she  was  going.  She  was  vaguely 
conscious  of  a  mournful  throng  of  people  approaching 
and  passing  and  felt  that  in  a  greater  or  less  degree 
they  were  of  kin;  that  she  was  one  of  them.  Here  fail- 
ure was  written  on  a  pinched,  white  face;  there  ruin 
looked  out  of  the  haunting  depths  of  dark  eyes.  How 
dreary  the  world  was !  How  hopeless  the  future !  The 
319 


320  BLACK  FRIDAY 

spirit  that  erstwhile  had  sustained  her  was  succeeded  by 
a  weight  and  depression  she  could  not  throw  off. 

Standing  at  the  corner  of  the  street  and  Broadway 
a  young  man  waited.  Now  he  strode  to  and  fro;  then 
paused  and  with  mingled  anxiety  and  restlessness  sur- 
veyed the  figures  drawing  near.  Why  did  she  not  come  ? 
And  when  she  did  come  what  should  he  say  to-  her? 
Reflectively  he  gazed  across  the  road  toward  the  church. 
The  front  door  of  the  sacred  edifice  was  open;  a  few 
people  were  entering ;'  a  few  going  out 

He  began  to  consider  his  position  and  hers  and  found 
himself  enmeshed  in  a  confusion  of  conflicting  influ- 
ences. He  was  alternately  depressed  and  elated;  de- 
jected and  hopeful. 

"I'll  go/'  he  thought,  "and  think  it  over." 

Then  her  words  in  the  office  recurred  to  him :  "All  I 
wish  is  to  be  free  I" 

"I  knew  it !  I  knew  it  I"  he  repeated,  and  lingered. 
Again  he  gazed  eagerly  down  the  street.  A  new  and 
greater  impatience  moved  him;  then  his  manner 
changed;  a  warm  hue  mantled  his  cheek  and  he  ad- 
vanced quickly. 

"Elinor  I" 

With  a  start  she  regarded  him;  but  if  Dalton  had  ex- 
pected any  sign  of  satisfaction  from  her  at  the  sight  of 
him,  any  trace  of  a  deeper  feeling,  he  was  doomed  to 


DALTON  IS  PUZZLED  321 

disappointment.  Her  face  was  cold,  pale;  all  the  fire 
had  gone  out  of  it.  With  no  word  of  answer  to  his  ex- 
clamation she  walked  on;  involuntarily  he  followed. 
For  a  few  moments  there  was  silence;  the  exultant  look 
in  his  eye  while  he  had  watched  for  her,  faded. 

"I  was  waiting  for  you/'  he  began  slowly.  "For 
several  days  I  have  been  trying  to  see  you/' 

She  did  not  reply  at  once.  "Yes" she  said  finally  in  a 
low  voice,  "they  told  me  you  called." 

His  eyes  searched  her  quickly.  Her  tone  was  monoto- 
nous, dull.  That  was  but  natural,  however,  under  the 
circumstances,  after  the  events  of  the  morning.  Dalton 
hesitated,  strove  to  think  of  something  to  say,  and  the 
silence  became  oppressive. 

"I  know  how  you  must  blame  me,"  he  at  last  went  on. 

She  looked  straight  ahead.    "I  blame  myself." 

For  some  time  Dalton  pondered  over  her  words.  Per- 
haps he  had  wanted  her  to  blame  him ;  perhaps  he  had 
expected  that  she  would  do  so.  Her  answer  now  seemed 
somehow  to  exclude  him  from  the  pale  of  her  thoughts. 

"You?"  he  said.     "Why— "  and  stopped1. 

She  offered  no  further  explanation.  Although  con- 
scious of  his  presence,  she  was  more  vividly  cognizant 
of  the  expression  of  Richard  Strong's  face  when  last  she 
had  looked  at  him.  Despite  herself,  that  final  impres- 
sion lingered  with  her;  she  could  not  dismiss  it.  She 


322  BLACK  FRIDAY 

felt  it  now,  and  was  fain  to  pass  her  hand  before  her 
eyes. 

"I  wanted  to  tell  you — how  sorry  I  was/' 

She  regarded  Dalton  calmly.  Empty,  distant,  mean- 
ingless sounded  his  voice. 

Charlie  bit  his  lip.  "I  know  it  sounds  very  trite/'  he 
returned. 

She  did  not  controvert  the  statement  and  a  number  of 
excuses  he  had  in  his  mind  died  on  his  lips.  This 
seemed  neither  the  time  nor  the  place  for  them.  For 
the  moment  his  self-poise  suffered;  he  knew  himself 
mastered  by  circumstances,  rather  than  master  of  them. 
The  consciousness  of  his  fall  from  fortune  hung  over 
him  like  a  pall.  And  that  other  chain  binding  him — 
the  secret  elation  he  had  hugged  to  his  breast  was  not 
without  its  tinge  of  bitterness. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  he  asked,  looking  at  the  pave- 
ment. 

"Going?"  she  repeated.    "I  don't  know." 

It  seemed  as  if  she  were  speaking  of  the  future,  not 
the  immediate  present.  Charlie  slackened  his  pace,  but 
she  continued  to  move  on  without  noticing  and  once 
more  he  regulated  his  step  to  hers. 

The  street  was  now  almost  vividly  bright  in  the  sun- 
shine. The  paving  blocks  shone  from  the  recent  rain; 
the  sidewalks  gleamed;  the  carriages  reflected  the  light, 


DAL1W  IS  PUZZLED  323 

and  all  the  world  glowed  with  external  cheer.  Above, 
the  sky  was  of  a  deep,  clarified  blue;  against  the  horizon 
the  dark  clouds  lay  like  a  parted  veil  that  was  fast  van- 
ishing. 

Gradually  Dalton's  eye  took  on  an  answering  spark. 
Was  there  no  ray  of  sunshine  anywhere  for  them  ?  That 
day  had  been  a  trying  one.  But  the  morrow?  An  opti- 
mistic feeling  that  "things  would  straighten,  themselves 
somehow"  moved  him.  He  was  young  yet;  the  road  lay 
long  before  them;  her  presence  was  the  incentive  for 
secret  sanguine  imaginings. 

He  began  to  talk  of  other  matters.  Money — that  was 
easily  won.  Had  he  not  once  acquired  it  quickly?  He 
could  do  so  again;  life  was  a  game  for  wealth,  power;  he 
would  win  for  himself  a  place.  But  there  was  more,  be- 
sides—one thing  especially. 

Again  he  strove  to  catch  her  glance,  led  away  by  his 
own  feverishness. 

"Don't  you  think  so?"  he  asked. 

She  did  not  reply ;  he  repeated  his  question. 

"What  ?"  she  said. 

He  stared  at  her.  She  had  not  heard.  His  words  had 
fallen  on  ears  that  were  deaf.  With  knitted  brows  he 
walked  on. 

In  the  press  of  belated  people,  they  came  together  and 
were  separated.  At  the  curb  of  an  intersecting  street 


324:  BLACK  FKIDAY 

he  touched  ner  arm,  drawing  her  back  from  a  carriage. 
As  he  did  so,  a  man  looked  down  on  them  from  the  ve- 
hicle, and,  with  a  quick  exclamation,  she  started  hack. 
But  an  instant,  the  carriage  passed  on;  Eichard  Strong 
did  not  look  around.  She  stood  there  with  flushed  face, 
her  hands  closed.  Appearances  were  all  against  her; 
he  who  had  been  sure  before,  now  must  feel  assurance 
doubly  sure. 

Dalton's  attitude  was  the  antithesis  to  her  own.  A. 
few  muttered  words  from  him,  as  he  gazed  after  the  van- 
ishing form,  sharply  recalled  her  from  her  stupor.  Sud- 
den anger  assailed  her. 

"Hush !"  she  said.    "You  shall  not  say  that." 
He  regarded  her  not  without  wonder — the  kindling 
gaze;  the  firmly  pressed  lips. 

"Yon  defend  him,  Elinor?    Have  you  forgotten — " 
'TU  not  hear  a  word  against  him !"  she  cried. 
"Why,  he  called  you — he  thought  you — " 
"What  has  that  to  do  with  it?"  she  answered  pas- 
sionately. 

For  the  second  time  that  day  she  had  greatly  surprised 
him.  First,  in  the  office;  now,  here.  A  moment  he 
stared  at  her. 

"Do  you  know  what  I  think?"  he  said.    "I  believe—" 
"Believe  what  you  please!"  she  exclaimed  wildly. 
"Only  leave  me." 


DALTO]ST  IS  PUZZLED  323 

"You  mean  that  ?" 

Hi's  features  grew  more  haggard;  his  eyes,  bright 
with  fatigue,  looked  searchingly  into  her  own. 

She  stopped.  The  clatter  of  the  pavement  like  an 
echo  of  thunder  seemed  to  beat  on  his  senses;  the  air 
was  filled  with  a  discord  of  noises  intrusively  clamorous. 

"Elinor,  I  can't  leave  you/' 

With  an  impatient  movement  she  turned  away;  it 
seemed  but  to  fan  the  fever  in  his  blood.  He  thrust 
forth  his  arm;  some  one  brushed  against  it. 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Strong !" 

Another  voice,  at  once  subdued  and  serious,  broke  in 
upon  them,  and  the  Eeverend  Doctor  Clement,  hat  in 
hand,  approached. 

"How  do  you  do  ?"  Apparently  he  did  not  note  any- 
thing unusual  in  their  appearance. 

"I'm  so  glad  to  see  you — so  glad !"  he  continued,  But 
his  accents  were  a  shade  less  sanguine  than  usual.  "I 
have  just  come  from  the  Street." 

Charlie  laughed  savagely  and  the  reverend  gentleman 
colored.  It  was  all  very  well  to  shear  the  sheep,  but 
the  shepherd — that  was  another  matter. 

"It's  a  sad  day !"  he  said  ruefully,  shaking  his  head. 
The  Eeverend  Doctor  Clement,  however,  was  never  long 
in  a  melancholy  mood;  his  buoyant  nature  now  en- 


326  BLACK  FKIDAY 

deavored  to  reassert  itself.  Mrs.  Strong  was  a  hand- 
some, agreeable  woman,  and — 

"May  I  walk  on  with  yon?"  he  added.  "You  were 
going  np-town,  were  you  not,  Mrs.  Strong?" 

She  bowed  assent. 

"You  are  coming,  too,  Mr.  Dalton  ?"  asked  the  rector. 

Elinor  made  an  unconscious  gesture.  "Mr.  Dalton 
was  just  leaving  me,"  she  said  hastily. 

The  young  man's  face  changed.  Annoyance,  disap- 
pointment, some  deeper  emotions,  were  at  war  within 
him.  But  he  drew  himself  up  with  a  start. 

"Yes;  just  leaving!"  he  returned  mechanically,  and 
raised  his  hat.  "I  have  to  be  off." 


CHAPTEE  X1T 

THE  SHADOW  REPUDIATES  HIS  ALLEGIANCE 

On  an  evening  about  a  week  later,  Dalton  and 
Tom  Marks  found  themselves  seated  at  a  table 
in  the  Pacific  Gardens.  At  that  hour,  a  great 
throng  of  varied  aspect  crowded  the  place  to  the  doors : 
young  women  in  abbreviated  skirts,  armed  with  foaming 
glasses;  poets,  artists  and  writers,  ultra-Bohemiaa  of 
both  sexes;  broad-faced  Teutons,  scattered  here  and 
there,  drinking  in  the  melodies  of  Strauss  and  the  brew 
of  Gambrinus  with  equal  satisfaction.  But  Charlie  was 
oblivious  of  the  entertaining  character  of  his  surround- 
ings. The  ping !  ping !  of  the  rifles  in  the  shooting-gal- 
lery; the  clinking  of  the  balls  in  the  billiard-room,  and 
the  occasional  rumbling  of  the  bowling-alley  alike  failed 
to  arouse  him. 

At  an  adjoining  table  sat  a  person  as  observant  of  the 
passing  spectacle  as  Dalton  was  indifferent  tc  it.  His 
little  eyes  sparkled;  he  bestowed  a  good-natured  glance 
upon  his  companion,  a  fair  lady  from  the  Platonian  re- 
public of  artists  that  made  Bleeker  Street  their  haunt 
and  their  home. 

327 


328  BLACK  FRIDAY 

"See  that  young  fellow  over  there?"  he  said,  jerking 
his  chubby  thumb  with  ill-concealed  satisfaction  to- 
ward Charlie.  "He's  one  of  those  that's  played  out. 
Made  his  first  money  in  my  office  and  then — "  Here  the 
Jolly  Boy  related  in  substance  from  his  point  of  view 
the  history  of  his  connection  with  Dalton.  "'Threw  me 
over !"  he  concluded  in  a  lively  tone.  "But  I  told  him 
every  dog  would  have  his  day !" 

"I  suppose  the  Rossi ters  got  away  all  right?" 

Tom,  after  a  discouraged  lapse  into  muteness,  again 
essayed  to  awaken  in  Charlie  a  sense  of  the  clarifying 
properties  of  conversation  and  good  fellowship. 

Dalton  did  not  look  up.    "I  suppose  so,"  he  answered. 

"They  should  be  well  out  on  the  briny  by  this  time," 
continued  Mr.  Marks.  "Were  you  at  the  wharf  ?  No  ? 
Strange !  Mr.  Strong  wasn't  down  either.  I  saw  him 
on  the  Street  at  the  time  the  boat  was  advertised  to 
leave.  Business,  I  suppose  I" 

Charlie  stroked  "his  glass  with  nervous,  white  fingers. 

"How  long  does  Mrs.  Strong  expect  to  be  absent  ?" 

"I  don't  know/' 

Dalton's  gaze  wandered  to  the  Jolly  Boy.  That 
gentleman  nodded  over-cheerfully ;  his  countenance  dis- 
played unmistakably  that  he  was  glad  to  see  the  young 
man  under  the  circumstances,  but  Charlie  neither  per- 
ceived nor  was  aware  of  the  beaming  complacency. 


EEPUDIATES  HIS  ALLEGIANCE        329 

"It  will  be  dull  without  her!"  said  Tom,  musingly, 
As  he  spoke,  he  was  wondering  if  he  should  see  as  much 
of  'the  fascinating,  though  disconcerting,  Miss  Posie 
Stanton  as  formerly.  "What  do  the  doctors  say  about 
Mr.  Bossiter?" 

"I  didn't  hear/' 

"Very  unselfish  of  Elinor — Mrs.  Strong — to  go 
along,  to  take  care  of  him,  isn't  it?" 

"Talk  about  something  else,  Tom  1" 

The  words  seemed  to  burst  from  Dalton  in  spite  of 
himself. 

Upon  the  platform  a  young  woman  began  to  sing,  her 
body  inclined  forward  by  high  heels  as  she  moved  across 
the  stage,  parodying  the  Grecian  wiggle,  the  Grecian 
hop,  or  the  other  fantastic  movements  inseparably  as- 
sociated with  the  fashionable  Bend.  For  a  moment  Mr. 
Marks  listened,  but  neither  the  song,  nor  the  hop  and 
wiggle  long  absorbed  his  attention.  His  concern  was 
for  his  friend  whose  uncertain  temper,  perhaps,  was  not 
altogether  to  be  wondered  at  under  the  circumstances. 
Charlie  was  "down"  and  the  other  was  "sticking  by 
him";  a  task  both  thankless  and1  difficult.  For  several 
days  Dalton's  manner  had  puzzled  the  other;  sometimes 
he  had  even  wondered  if  there  was  anything  except 
financial  matters  to  worry  him. 

"Don't  think  of  it,  Charlie/'  he  now  said  earnestly. 


330  BLACK  FEIDAY 

"You'll  pull  up.  I  don't  exactly  know  how  much  money 
you  owe,  or  quite  what  has  happened,  but  I'm  sure 
they  can't  keep  you  down.  Look  at  your  friends  and 
connections — there's  Mr.  Strong,  for  example — " 

Dalton  laughed  oddly. 

"The  Rossiters  are  relatives — and  Elinor — " 

"Minor!" 

Charlie's  face  had  changed  like  a  flash;  its  expression 
arrested  Mr.  Marks'  attention ;  held  it.  A  moment  they 
stared  at  each  other. 

"Charlie !"  said  Tom.  A  light  seemed  suddenly  to 
burst  upon  him.  "You — and  Elinor — " 

Dalton  flicked  the  ash  from  his  cigar. 

"Hold  on !"  he  said  savagely.  For  some  time  silence 
continued  between  the  two  young  men;  Dalton's glance 
was  aggressive,  as  if  the  Shadow,  not  he,  were  at  fault, 
and  Tom  stirred  uneasily.  Conflicting  thoughts  moved 
him.  He  saw  Charlie  as  he  had  seen  him  in  the  days  of 
their  early  friendship;  the  brilliant,  handsome,  though 
somewhat  careless,  Charlie  of  old  college  days.  He  saw 
him  now — and  the  present  seemed  unreal  and  wrong. 
The  idea  crossed'  his  mind  that  Charlie  had  been  in 
Richard  Strong's  office;  that  he  owed  much  to  Mr. 
Strong,  yet — 

Mr.  Marks  strove  to  check  this  train  of  reasoning;  he 


EEPUDIATES  HIS  ALLEGIANCE        331 

looked  down  half-guiltily  as  if  ashamed  of  his  own 
thoughts. 

"Suppose  we  go,"  he  said  finally. 

"You.  can/' 

Tom  arose.  "I  guess  I  will/'  he  said  with  simulated 
ease.  "I  do  feel  a  bit  sleepy/' 

Something  in  Tom's  eyes  held  Dalton;  he  scrutinized 
him  with  curling  lip.  Mr.  Marks  shifted  his  weight  to 
his  other  foot. 

"Good  night,"  he  said,  feeling  his  face  grow  a  little 
redder. 

"Good   night,"   answered   Charlie,   shortly. 

Slowly  Mr.  Marks  turned  away  and  as  he  vanished 
Charlie  again  reached  for  the  matches,  selected  one, 
struck  it.  It  burned  his  fingers  and  he  dropped  it. 
Like  a  basilisk  the  Jolly  Boy  watched  him. 

If  Charlie  was  thinking  of  Tom  it  was  only  in  an  in- 
cidental way;  that  gentleman  was  not  a  consequential 
figure;  the  change  that  had  come  over  him  seemed  im- 
portant chiefly  in  indicating  his  own  altered  fortunes. 
Perhaps  for  a  moment  Mr.  Marks  had  had  the  power 
to  awaken  his  resentment  by  an  implied,  if  not  spoken 
criticism,  but  only  for  a  moment.  Another  vista/ — 
wider,  illimitable — passed  before  him. 

Involuntarily  he  thrust  his  hand  into  his  pocket; 


332  BLACK  FKIDAY 

drew  forth  an  envelope,  and,  after  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion, opened  it  and  began  to  read. 

"Never — never  write  me  again  as  you  did  to-day — " 

What  had  he  written  ?  He  hardly  remembered ;  he  re- 
called now  only  a  passionate  haste,  and  smiled  scornfully 
at  the  inefficacy  of  his  own  words. 

"You  must  understand  I  can  never  see  you  again. 
You  will  know  what  I  meant  when  I  said  I  blamed  my- 
self. I  have  been  foolish,  wicked,  and  so  I  write — but 
nothing  can  change  that — I  can  not  see  you.  Elinor." 

Dalton  folded  his  arms ;  his  heart  beat  fast  against  the 
closed  hand  that  held  her  letter.  Vividly  the  details 
and  events  of  that  night,  but  a  few  weeks  old,  came  back 
to  him;  the  sudden  madness  that  had  swept  over  him 
until  he  knew  not  what  he  said;  only  that  he  held  her 
in  his  arms — a  sweet,  wild  moment,  broken  by  her  tears, 
an  uncontrollable  fit  of  weeping.  Then  afterward,  the 
feverish,  unending  days ! 

How  long  did  he  sit  there?  Already  had  the  sober, 
music-loving  Teutonic  element  departed.  An  influx 
from'  the  theaters  replaced  the  staid,  domestic  element. 
The  descendants  of  the  children  of  Israel  that  had  been 
feasting  their  eyes  at  the  ballet  or  surfeiting  their  ears 
at  the  opera,  thronged  thirstily  into  the  great  bar-room 
and  the  smaller  apartments,  discoursing  of  the  nimble- 
ness  of  the  star  at  Niblo's  or  the  vocal  agility  of  the 


KEPUDIATES  HIS  ALLEGIANCE          333 

Signorita  Capella.  Overdressed  ladies  glided  amid  the 
masculine  devotees  of  art  and  diversion.  Financial 
trouble  and  the  panic  seemed  forgotten.  Disaster,  pov- 
erty— what  place  had  they  in  the  palace  of  amusement  ? 
The  air  was  filled  with  smoke,  perfume  and  laughter. 
The  flaring  lights  revealed  no  spectacle  of  misery  and 
want. 

Suddenly  Dalton  shifted  his  position,  a  bitter  distaste 
stirring  his  breast.  To  end  all !  The  thought  came  to 
him;  he  dismissed  it  with  repugnance  and  yet — slowly 
he  put  out  his  hand  for  his  hat. 

"May  I  sit  down?" 

A  soft  voice  at  his  elbow  caused  him  to  look  up ;  two 
black  eyes  met  his;  eyes  that  went  fittingly  with  the 
dashing  hat,  the  voluminous  dress,  the  red  roses.  He 
did  not  rise;  indeed,  hardly  seemed  to  see  her;  with 
admirable  patience  she  waited. 

"You  \"  he  said  finally. 

The  lady  smiled;  a  smile  that  seemed  to  give  the  lie 
to  skepticism.  "You  are  not  very  polite.  But  there 
is  the  provocation.  The  Black  Friday!  I  have  read 
about  it!" 

Her  presence  became  more  insistent,  annoying. 

"There  is  one  consolation,"  he  said  curtly. 

She  leaned  a  little  toward  him.     With  a  start  he 


334  BLACK  FEIDAY 

breathed  a  perfume  he  remembered — delicate  yet  pene- 
trating. 

"And  what— is  that?" 

A  softer  light  in  the  lady's  eyes  bore  with  the  angry 
gleam  in  his. 

"It  has  rid  me  of  you." 

"On  the  contrary,  mon  ami!"  The  black  eyes  sparkled. 
"You  are  ruined,  n'est  ce  pas?" 

He  volunteered  no  denial. 

"That  is  it,"  she  went  on,  and  nodded  her  head  in 
gratified  appreciation  of  a  dramatic  effect.  "I  am  the 
wife.  My  place,  it  is  here." 

He  stared  at  her  as  not  understanding.  She  raised 
the  roses  to  her  face. 

"May  I— sit  down?" 

Her  voice  was  insinuating,  caressing.  He  did  not 
answer;  an  old  gulf  seemed  opening;  he  did  not  care. 


BOOK  III 


BOOK   III 


CHAPTER  I 

AN    INTERRUPTED    SONG 

"Are  you  sure  we  have  been  wise  in  coming  to 
Paris,  papa?" 

"Why  not,  my  dear?  Peace  has  been  ratified.  The 
German  troops  have  left  the  city.  Do  you  see  any 
indications  of  grim-visaged  war  or  the  terrible  siege? 
No;  no!  Paris  is  quite  herself  again." 

And  leaning  complacently  back  in  the  carriage,  the 
speaker  gazed,  not  without*  pleasure,  upon  the  fete- 
like  scene  up  and  down  the  animated  boulevards. 

"You  see,"  he  went  on,  "everybody  is  out  and — 
everybody  is  happy.  That  is  why  I  wanted  to  come 
to  Paris — to  feel  young  again!" 

Her  glance  lighted  with  ready  sympathy,  and,  fol- 
lowing his,  lingered  curiously  upon  the  stream  of  people 
in  bright-colored  dresses  and  fresh  spring  bonnets. 

On  the  sidewalk  many  in  the  promenading  throng 
found  likewise  a  source  for  speculation  in  the  occupants 
337 


338  BLACK  FKIDAY 

of  the  public  conveyance,  and  turned  to  gaze  after 
them. 

The  gentleman  had  snow-white  hair,  a  pale,  refined 
face,  an  aristocratic  bearing.  The  girl  was  young, 
beautiful  and,  obviously,  his  daughter.  But  whereas 
his  face  was  weak,  sensitive,  almost  childish  in  its  irre- 
sponsibility, hers  was  serious,  earnest,  yet  proudly 
self-reliant.  That  they  had  just  entered  the  city  was 
apparent  from  the  trunks  before  them. 

Turning  into  a  quiet  thoroughfare,  the  carriage  drove 
up  before  a  four-story  dwelling,  one  of  the  older  struct- 
ures of  the  street,  antedating  the  mansion-building  pe- 
riod of  the  late  emperor.  The  old'  gentleman  regarded 
the  house  almost  eagerly,  when  from  the  unpretentious 
entrance  emerged  a  thick-set,  phlegmatic-looking  woman. 

"You  are  looking  for  rooms,  Monsieur?"  she  said, 
standing  with  arms  akimbo  and  turning  her  eyes  from 
one  to  the  other. 

"Yes;  does  Madame  Fracard  live  here?" 

An  expression  of  surprise  crossed  the  woman's  face. 
"She  has  been  dead  these  ten  years !" 

"Dear !  Dear !"  exclaimed  the  old  gentleman.  "And 
Monsieur  Fracard?" 

"Alas  !" — stolidly — "he  followed  madame." 

The  gentleman's  face  fell.  "Both  gone !"  he  said.  "I 
am  disappointed;  I  might  have  expected  it,  yet" — re- 


AN  INTERRUPTED  SONG  339 

garding  the  girl — "it  makes  me  feel  like  Eip  Van 
Winkle." 

"I  was  afraid  you  would  be  disappointed/'  she  said 
gently. 

"Monsieur  knew  Madame  Fracard?"  asked  the  wo- 
man. 

"For  a  good  many  years  I  lived  in  Paris — here.  In 
this  house !  That  was  long  ago !  Long  ago  I" 

Some  of  the  animation  faded  from  his  face;  he  sank 
into  momentary  reverie. 

"If  you  wish  to  see  rooms — " 

He  brightened  at  once.  "Good !  By  all  means ! 
only" — with  a  whimsical  look — "they  must  not  be  so 
high  up  as  they  used  to  be." 

Half  an  hour  thereafter  Mr.  Rossiter  and  his  daughter 
were  seated  in  a  little  private  sitting-room  into  which 
streamed  the  warm  sunshine,  revealing  the  well-worn 
carpet  and  heavy,  though  faded,  hangings.  Mr.  Rossiter 
peered  about  with  unabated  interest,  examining  the 
bric-a-brac  and  then  gazing  down  the  street,  while 
Elinor  quietly  began  to  open  some  letters  that  they  had 
brought  with  them  from  the  bank,  where  they  had 
stopped  on  their  way. 

"Here  is  a  letter  from  Posie  Stanton  I  haven't  read 
yet." 

Mr.  Rossiter,  with  an  air  of  comfort,  drew  a  cigar 


340  BLACK  FKIDAY 

from  his  pocket.  "Bead  your  mother's  letter  again,  my 
dear;  I  only  half-heard  it." 

"She  thinks  she  will  stay  a  little  longer  at  the 
baths — the  Reverend  Doctor  Clement  is  there — it  is  not 
at  all  dull — she  doesn't  think  she  will  come  to  Paris, 
but  will  join  us  later  in  London — when  the  season  is 
fairly  begun  there.  But  look  at  it  yourself," — handing 
him  the  missive — "and  I  will  glance  over  the  others." 

Deliberately  he  began  to  peruse  the  epistle,  a  mes- 
sage long  in  paper,  if  short  in  matter,  for  a  page  of 
stationery  could  contain  but  a  few  words  of  the  large 
impressive  handwriting  of  the  good  lady.  He  had 
reached  the  last  page  of  the  letter,  when  an  excla- 
mation caused  him  to  glance  up. 

"What  is  it,  my  dear?" 

"Nothing." 

"Not  bad  news  from  home  ?" 

"Not  at  all,"  she  answered  with  constraint. 

"You  didn't  hear  from — any  one  else?"  he  said, 
gazing  at  her  half-wistfully  and  then  at  the  letters. 
She  professed  not  to  understand. 

"Yes,"  she  answered  gaily,  at  the  same  time  rising 
quickly;  "I  have  really  quite  a  voluminous  correspon- 
dence. But  how  would  you  like  to  go  out?  You  can 
show  me  the  sights,  you  know.  That  is,  if  it  won't  tire 
you." 


AN  INTERRUPTED  SONG  341 

"Tire  me?"  He  got  up  with  alacrity.  "Not  a  bit! 
The  winter  at  the  baths  has  made  quite  a  new  man  of 
me." 

She  gazed  at  him  searchingly — his  white  face  had  a 
spot  of  color  on  each  cheek;  his  eyes  an  almost  un- 
natural gleam — then  gravely  took  up  his  hat  and  handed 
him  his  gloves  and  cane. 

"You  are  very  good  to  me,  my  dear/'  he  observed. 
"I  don't  know  what  I  should  do  without  you." 

The  shining  brown  hair  just  brushed  the  white  hair, 
"We  always  have  understood  each  other  very  well, 
haven't  we  ?" 

"What !"  he  laughed.  "Understand  a  woman  ?  Even 
though  she  is  your  own  daughter !" 

Her  hand  fell  from  his  shoulder  and,  turning,  she 
drew  on  her  gloves. 

"I  am  all  ready  if  you  are,  papa." 

Their  footsteps  resounded  loudly  as  they  descended. 
The  house  had  a  solitary,  gloomy  aspect.  Save  for  a 
porter  and  the  woman,  they  had  seen  no  one.  The  lat- 
ter now  stood  at  the  door. 

"You  will  return  for  supper,  Monsieur?" 

"Yes,  Madame.  You  can  prepare  something  light, 
with  one  of  those  fine  salads  Madame  Fracard  used  to 
make — an  entree,  perhaps,  and — something  from  the 
patisserie.  You  can  serve  the  meal  in  our  sitting-room 
at  half -past  six." 


342  BLACK  FKIDAY 

"Have  you  many  guests  now  ?"  asked  Elinor,  as  they 
were  leaving. 

"There  are  no  others,  Madame/'  answered  the 
woman,  soberly.  "Strangers  have  not  yet  begun  to  re- 
turn to  Paris." 

"Well,  well/'  said  Mr.  Rossiter,  soothingly,  "the  city 
will  soon  fill  up." 

But  on  the  sidewalk  he  sighed. 

"How  unlike  Madame  Fracard !"  Then  he  paused 
with  amused  expression  before  a  flaming  proclamation 
posted  on  one  of  the  walls:  "Death  and  bombs! — Dag- 
gers for  the  traitors  of  the  Government!" 

"What  does  it  mean,  papa?" 

"Words !  Just  words !"  he  said  lightly.  "A  call  of 
the  patriots  to  arms ;  to  overthrow  the  government. 
These  gentlemen,  having  finished  a  war  with  the  enemy, 
now  think  they  would  like  an  opportunity  to  kill  one 
another.  But  come,  my  dear,  what  do  you  say  to  a 
drive  in  the  park  ?" 

She  offered  no  demur  and  soon  they  were  driving 
toward  the  Arc  de  Triomphe.  When  they  returned,  the 
day  was  drawing  to  a  close.  Through  the  mist,  all 
golden  lay  the  city ;  in  the  distance  trees  and  shrubbery 
were  suspended  in  magical  light.  A  brooding  peace  lay 
over  sward  and  pavement.  With  knitted  brows  the 
girl  looked  out;  violence,  bloodshed, — what  had  they  in 


AN  INTERRUPTED  SONG  343 

common  with  the  fairy-like  city  ?  Soothingly  the  breeze, 
redolent  with  flowers,  fanned  her  cheek.  How  beautiful 
was  nature,  and  yet  life — how  complex ! 

Slowly  sank  the  sun;  upon  the  retina  of  her  eyes  yet 
remained  an  outline  of  the  last  segment  of  the  glow- 
ing circle;  then  that  too,  vanished,  and  the  incoming 
shadows  fell  mysteriously. 

"Here  we  are !  And  I've  brought  back  a  capital  appe- 
tite with  me." 

She  looked  up  with  a  start.    "Are  we  home  so  soon  ?" 

The  candles  threw  a  bright  glow  upon  the  snowy 
cover  of  the  table  that  was  spread  in  their  sitting-room 
when  they  reentered  that  apartment. 

"There!  This  is  what  I  call  nice  and  cozy!"  said 
Mr.  Bossiter.  "A  dainty  repast,  a  bottle  of  light  claret, 
and — last,  but  not  least! — you,  my  dear,  to  grace  the 
board.  How  do  you  like  Paris,  Elinor?"  he  added. 

"It  is  very  beautiful,  but" — she  paused. 

"What?" 

"Nothing.  I  suppose  I  was  thinking  of  that  procla- 
mation. I  won't  any  more.  Don't  you  think  we  might 
as  well  use  all  the  candles?"  she  added,  with  a  change 
of  tone. 

He  smiled  indulgently.  "What  extravagance !  But 
go  ahead." 


344  BLACK  FEIDAY 

'There!"  she  said  a  few  moments  later.  'It  makes 
quite  an  illumination,  doesn't  it?" 

And  the  meal  passed  merrily  enough.  Mr.  Bossiter  was 
profuse  in  his  praise  of  the  dishes;  the  salad  was  mixed 
just  right;  the  wine  suited  his  taste.  He  became  vi- 
vacious, anecdotal,  and  tales  of  the  empire,  stories  of 
the  court,  pictures  of  the  people  he  had  seen  and 
known  in  those  early  days  followed  in  quick  succession. 
Elinor  noted,  however,  that  despite  his  assertion  when 
they  had  returned  and  his  compliments  on  the  cook- 
ing, he  ate  even  more  sparingly  than  usuaL  The  flush 
on  his  face  had  deepened,  although  he  had  taken  but 
little  of  the  wine,  and,  leaning  her  head  on  her  elbow, 
the  girl  watched  him,  occasionally  nodding  assent.  Si- 
lently the  woman  moved  in  or  out  of  the  room;  then 
placing  the  dishes  on  a  tray,  she  vanished  with  a  curt 
good  night. 

Mr.  Eossiter  waved  his  cigar  back  and  forth  as  he 
talked,  the  past  seeming  to  crowd  upon  him — the  gay, 
heedless  past!  His  manner  perplexed  her;  in  the  si- 
lent house,  perhaps  by  contrast,  it  affected  her,  as  she 
thought  of  the  long,  dark  corridors,  the  guests  who 
had  gone,  the  empty  rooms. 

He  had  been  talking  about  the  opera — the  old  opera 
— and  now  he  arose  and  approached  the  piano  to  ex- 
emplify his  theme.  "Ah,  they  had  real  melodies  in  those 


AN  INTEEEUPTED  SONG  345 

days — the  good  old  days/'  said  he,  as  he  half-turned 
toward  her.  "Then  a  prima-donna  was  likened  to  a 
nightingale!  A  concert  was  a  charming  occasion,  not 
a  bombardment." 

She  pressed  her  hands  together  tightly. 

"Don't  you  think  it  is  getting  late,  papa?" 

He  shook  his  head,  his  fingers  continuing  to  run  over 
the  keys,  when — boom !  boom ! — two  loud  detonations 
afar  were  followed  by  a  distant  volley  of  deep  rumbling 
sounds.  The  melody  died  on  the  singer's  lips. 

"Why,  what  was  that?"  he  said. 

Elinor  went  to  the  window,  drew  back  the  curtain 
and  looked  out. 

"Do  you  see  anything?"  he  asked  querulously. 

"Nothing!" 

He  went  to  the  bell-rope  and  pulled  it.  No  one 
answered.  Again  he  strove  to  summon  the  woman  or 
the  porter. 

"You  stay  here,  papa,"  said  the  girl,  after  an  inter- 
val. "I'll  go  down  and  find  her." 

Mr.  Eossiter  looked  at  the  piano;  he  was  vexed;  put 
out.  His  song  had  been  interrupted;  and  no  singer, 
great  or  small,  likes  to  be  stopped  in  the  middle  of  a 
cadenza. 

In  the  dark  entrance  of  the  house  Elinor  discovered 
the  woman  and  the  porter,  looking  down  the  street. 


346  BLACK  FEIDAY 

"What  has  happened?"  she  asked  quietly. 

But  even  as  she  spoke  a  number  of  boys  ran  shouting 
down  the  thoroughfare:  "Vive  la  Commune!  Vive  la 
Commune  I" 

The  woman's  glance  turned.  "The  Commune  have 
pledged  themselves  to  overthrow  the  government  and — " 
folding  her  arms — "they  have  begun." 

A  moment  Elinor  looked  down  thoughtfully,  then 
retraced  her  steps  to  the  sitting-room,  where  Mr.  Ros- 
siter  was  pacing  up  and  down. 

"Well,  my  dear,  well?"  he  asked  with  a  certain  im- 
patience. 

She  did  not  wish  needlessly  to  alarm  him,  so  made 
light  of  what  she  had  learned,  but  added:  "Perhaps, 
though,  it  may  become  unpleasant  here  and  we  had 
better  leave  to-morrow." 

"To-morrow?"  His  face  expressed  emphatic  dissent. 
"Leave  Paris !  We  have  just  come !  Besides,  there 
won't  be  any  serious  trouble — " 

She  did  not  answer  at  once.  To  persuade  her  father 
to  go  without  unduly  exciting  him  might  require  di- 
plomacy. 

"But  if  I'm  afraid,  papa?" 

"Tut !  tut !  You  don't  know  the  Parisians,  my  dear. 
They  are  like  children — fond  of  proclamations  and — " 


AN  INTERRUPTED  SONG  347 

"Won't  you  go — for  my  sake?"  she  pleaded. 
Lightly  he  stroked  her  hair. 
"Of  course  if  you  really  wish — " 
She  put  her  arms  about  his  neck. 
"Very  well,  my  dear  I" 

"Good  I"  she  exclaimed  almost  gaily.     "And  now"— 
her  arms  loosening — "go  on  with  your  song/' 


CHAPTER  II 

AN  ENFORCED  SOJOURN 

But  they  did  not  leave  the  next  day.  When  Elinor 
rapped  at  her  father's  door  early  in  the  morning, 
a  feeble  voice  answered,  and,  entering,  she  found 
him  feverish,  light-headed.  At  once  she  summoned  a 
doctor  who  examined  the  old  gentleman,  looked  grave, 
and  wrote  a  prescription.  As  for  going  away,  said  the 
medical  man,  that  was  impossible  for  the  present — what 
the  patient  needed  was  absolute  rest  and  quiet.  When 
should  they  be  able  to  take  their  departure?  It  would  be 
impossible  to  say;  in  a  week;  perhaps  sooner. 

Watching  by  her  father's  side,  the  day  passed  slowly, 
but  toward  night  Mr.  Bossiter  sank  into  slumber; 
his  respiration  became  more  even;  his  temperature, 
better. 

"He  is  doing  nicely,"  said  the  doctor,  who  called 
again.  "Only  I  do  not  conceal  from  you  that  his  con- 
dition is  serious." 

Late  that  night  the  girl  sat  up;  occasionally  she 
bent  over  her  father,  but  at  length  lay  down  on  the 
348 


AN  ENFORCED  SOJOURN  349 

sofa.  A  troubled  sleep.  Now  and  then  she  awoke  of  her 
own  accord ;  again  she  was  startled  by  some  noise  with- 
out; sounds  like  the  quick,  measured  tramping  of 
soldiers'  feet !  Once  she  thought  she  heard  the  cracking 
of  musketry  afar  and  started  up.  She  held  her  breath ; 
bad  she  been  mistaken?  Dreaming?  The  ominous 
stillness  of  the  moment  was  broken  only  by  the  sound 
of  breathing  from  the  bed,  and  noiselessly  she  stole  to 
the  couch.  No,  he  had  not  been  disturbed.  A  moment 
she  stood  there;  then  returned  to  the  sofa. 

"Elinor!" 

Her  father's  voice  aroused  her.  It  seemed  but  a  few 
minutes  later;  yet  day  had  dawned,  sunless,  overcast. 
At  once  she  hastened  to  his  bedside  where  she  found 
him  sitting  up;  his  eyes,  clearer;  his  manner,  impatient. 

"Are  the  trunks  packed?" 

"What  for?"  she  asked  gently. 

"I  thought  we  were  going  to  leave  Paris/' 

"And  I  thought  you  wanted  to  stay !" 

"I  don't  want  to  stay,"  he  announced. 

"We  seem  to  have  changed  places,"  she  said  with  a 
smile.  "Before,  it  was  you — " 

"You  are  staying  on  my  account,  my  dear,"  he  in- 
terrupted. "I  am  well  enough  to  go." 

"I   am   afraid   the   doctor   would   never   consent   to 


350  BLACK  FEIDAY 

that."  She  endeavored  to  answer  him  lightly.  "He 
made  me  promise  to  keep  you  quiet  for  a  few  days." 

"A  few  days,"  cried  Mr.  Eossiter.  "It  may  then  be 
too  late." 

Placing  her  hands  on  his  shoulders,  she  quietly 
forced  him  back  upon  the  pillows. 

"Is  that  the  way  you  obey  orders?"  she  asked  re- 
proachfully. 

"Well,  well!"  he  said  with  a  show  of  resignation. 
f(I  suppose  you  are  right."  And  added  irrelevantly: 
:"God  bless  you,  my  dear !" 

She  seated  herself  on  the  edge  of  the  bed  and  stroked 
his  hand  softly.  He  closed  his  eyes.  She  thought  he 
svas  sleeping,  but  his  lips  again  moved  and  he  muttered 
something  she  did  not  catch. 

"What  is  it,  papa?" 

He  looked  at  her  with  sudden  inquiry.  "Nothing, 
my  dear,  nothing!  Only  an  old  proverb  came  to  me." 

"An  old  proverb?"  she  asked  in  surprise. 

"Yes.    'A  good  daughter  makes  a  good  wife' !" 

'Across  the  pallor  of  her  cheek  swept  a  quick  flush, 
while  the  hand  that  touched  his  ceased  its  motion. 
Heretofore  he  had  never  questioned  his  daughter  ofl 
the  subject  of  Eichard  Strong,  having  left  that  family 
task  to  Mrs.  Eossiter.  Perhaps  Elinor's  manner  in 
response  to  that  lady's  hints,  inquiries  and  innuendoes. 


AN  ENFORCED  SOJOURN  351 

had  deterred  him  at  the  outset  from  supplementing  her 
futile  efforts  with  his  own.  That  the  girl  had  been 
disposed  to  keep  her  own  counsel  had  seemed  sufficient 
reason  to  the  sensitive  Mr.  Rossiter  to  refrain  from 
seeking  the  causes  of  the  one  fact  that  was  patent — her 
separation  from  Richard  Strong.  He  might  invite  her 
confidence,  but  he  would  never  seek  to  force.it.  In  the 
face  of  his  wife's  displeasure  at  her  failure  in  the  at- 
tempted role  of  peacemaker,  Mr.  Rossiter's  mute,  but 
sympathetic,  demeanor  had  drawn  father  and  daugh- 
ter but  the  closer  together. 

Now,  however,  lying  there  helpless,  anxiety  for  her 
welfare  impelled  him  to  speak. 

"A  good  daughter!  a  good  wife!"  he  repeated.  "You 
are  all  that  any  man  could  ask.  All  and  more !  He  is 
respected ;  esteemed.  He  loved  you — dearly.  It  was  not 
difficult  to  see  that.  Nor  could  you  have  been  indiffer- 
ent to  him.  Yet  you  never  hear  from  him ;  you  do  not 
write  to  him/' 

Hastily  she  drew  back,  but  his  fingers  closed  detain- 
ingly  on  her  hand. 

"Suppose  anything  should  happen  to  me,  Elinor 
You  would  be  left  alone — your  future  problematical!" 

Her  face  was  turned  away;  she  did  not  reply. 

"I  presume,  my  dear,"  he  went  on,  "all  people  have 
their  little  troubles  when  they  are  first  married.  Even. 


352  BLACK  FKIDAY 

your  mother  and  I  had  our  little  differences  which' 
seemed  large  enough  at  the  time,  but  after  a  while  we 
got  along  very  well  together ;  very  well,  indeed !  In 
your  own  case,  perhaps,  you  formed  certain  ideals  and 
you  found  that  these  preconceived  notions — " 

"Papa!" 

The  accents  of  her  voice  held  him;  the  appeal  in  her 
eyes.  His  grasp  loosened;  he  lay  back  and  looked  at 
the  ceiling. 

Swiftly  she  knelt  at  the  bed;  something  arose  in 
her  throat.  "Please  do  not  think  me  cold,  or  unfeeling. 
I'm  not;  really  I'm  not.  I  feel  my  position  keenly;  the 
falseness,  the  humiliation  of  it!" 

"My  dear !"    He  was  looking  at  her  now. 

"When  mama  has  questioned  and  urged  me,  I  have 
not  been  so  hard,  so  unnatural,  as  I  have  seemed.  I 
know  she  is  very  angry  with  me;  that  she  blames  me 
greatly.  And  I  know  that  you  have  been  very  patient 
with  me;  that  you  do  not  mind  that  I  have  been  a 
disappointment  to  you — a  burden — " 

"Elinor!—" 

She  laid  her  cheek  against  his.  "I  do  not  mean  to 
keep  things  from  you,  but  it  can  never  be  mended— 
never !  He  would  not — I  know  you  want  to  help  me, 
but  you  can't,  dear,  you  can't !  And — really,  I'm  not 
Unhappy  at  all.  And" — coaxingly — "I'm  going  to 


AN  ENFOECED  SOJOUEN  353 

nurse  you  and  you  are  going  to  get  well  soon,  and  we'll 
go  to  London  and  have  a  good  time  together." 

When  had  he  ever  been  able  to  resist  her?  Not  in 
the  past,  and  now,  at  her  words,  his  purpose  weakened. 
It  was  easier  to  accept  her  explanation  than  to  seek 
further  to  overcome  her  reserve;  and  Mr.  Eossiter,  as 
usual,  reconciled  himself  to  the  easier  course. 

"Very  well,  my  dear!"  he  said.  "I  won't  keep  you 
here  long,  depend  upon  it!  I'll  soon  be  on  my  feet 
again." 

And  truly,  despite  the  disquieting  events  that  ensued 
in  Paris,  his  condition  took  a  more  favorable  turn 
and  before  a  week  had  passed  the  fever  had  left  him. 
Convalescent,  he  was,  nevertheless,  feeble,  debilitated. 
He  had  proved  a  docile  invalid,  amenable  to  treatment; 
comparatively  calm  and  complacent  in  circumstances 
calculated  to  disturb  the  most  phlegmatic  nature.  Was 
he  but  acting  a  part?  Elinor  often  asked  herself  the 
question. 

The  city  daily  grew  more  disordered,  more  chaotic, 
but  her  impatience  to  escape  from  their  environment 
found  at  length  its  relief,  when  at  the  end  of  seven  long, 
almost  interminable  days,  the  doctor  announced  the 
welcome  news  that  her  father  might  leave  Paris  and 
proceed  to  London  by  slow  and  easy  stages. 

"Your  father  should  be  able  to  stand  the  journey/'  he 
said.  "It  is  not  very  trying." 


354  BLACK  FKIDAY 

"Oh,  I'm  sure  he'll  be  able  to !"  she  answered  eagerly, 
"He  seems  so  much  improved — only  weak.  We  can  leave 
perhaps  this  afternoon." 

"There  is  one  little  formality  to  be  observed  first/' 
he  continued.  "It  will  be  necessary  to  procure  a  pass- 
port. The  new  police  prefect  has  caused  all  the  gates 
to  be  closed." 

"In  that  case,"  she  returned,  "I'll  go  at  once  to  get  it." 

When  Elinor  returned  to  her  father's  room  she  wore 
her  bonnet  and  jacket. 

"Au  revoir,  papa !"  she  said  gaily,  bowing  to  him 
from  the  doorway. 

With  a  gleam  of  pleasure  he  surveyed  her  from  the 
chair  in  which  he  was  sitting,  clad  in  his  dressing-gown. 
"Au  revoir  I"  he  answered,  almost  brightly.  "You  don't 
mean — " 

"Yes;  we  are  off  at  last!" — adjusting  her  veil  at  the 


"But  where  are  you  going  ?" 

"To  get  the  passports !"  she  replied.  "Is  there  any- 
thing you  would  like  me  to  bring  you  back  ?" 

"Only — yourself,  my  dear !" 

She  kissed  her  fingers  to  him  from  the  threshold. 
"Never  fear !  Like  the  bad  penny,  I  always  return." 

At  the  little  office  at  the  foot  of  the  stairway  she 
paused  to  inquire  the  direction  to  the  department  of 


AN  ENFORCED  SOJOURN  355 

the  prefect  of  police.  Expressing  no  curiosity,  madame 
briefly  told  her  the  way  and  almost  buoyantly  the  girl 
departed  on  her  errand.  The  lonesomeness  and  worry 
of  the  past  week  seemed  like  a  disagreeable  dream.  To 
leave  Paris!  Her  feet  fairly  danced  along.  Even  the 
changed  and  mournful  appearance  of  the  streets  did 
not  depress  her — the  closed  houses;  the  barred  doors; 
the  cafes  mockingly  gay  by  contrast !  As  she  moved  on, 
she  observed  many  vehicles  laden  with  household  goods 
and  trunks  wending  their  way  to  the  station,  and  she 
breathed  deeply  in  anticipation  of  the  perfumed  air  she 
soon  would  find  beyond  the  grim  walls  of  the  menacing 
city. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE   GAMIN   AND   THE    EOSE 

"Refused  the  passport!"  Mr.  Rossiter's  face  ex- 
pressed his  indignation. 

Elinor  slowly  drew  off  her  gloves.  "The  man 
said  it  was  customary  to  investigate  all  applica- 
tions." 

"It  is  an  outrage." 

"One  more  day  won't  matter,"  she  answered,  looking 
down.  "And — and  I'll  call  again  to-morrow." 

She  did  not  tell  him  of  the  reception  accorded  her  at 
the  prefecture;  how  she  had  been  obliged  to  stand  in  a 
room  filled  with  tobacco  smoke  in  the  presence  of 
several  officers  and  a  rough-looking  man  in  civilian  at- 
tire; how  the  former  had  stared  at  her  and  the  latter 
had  insolently  questioned  her  without  removing  the 
pipe  from  his  lips,  until  the  blood  had  flushed  her 
cheeks  and  her  dark  eyes  had  lighted  with  angry  fire. 
They  were  bright  now,  but  her  face  was  pale  as  she 
bent  herself  to  the  task  of  appearing  indifferent,  as- 
sured. 

356 


THE  GAMIN  AND  THE  ROSE  357 

Mr.  Roesiter,  however,  was  not  easily  calmed  and 
Elinor  with  difficulty  persuaded  him  to  forego  his  in- 
tention of  visiting  personally  the  authorities.  Propping 
him  up  in  the  chair,  she  set  herself  to  the  task  of  di- 
verting him  from  the  consideration  of  the  vexations  or 
perils  of  their  surroundings.  A  new  hook  by  Disraeli 
— Lothair — she  brought  forth  from  the  top  of  her  trunk 
and  opened  with  a  show  of  interest. 

"Every  one  is  reading  it,  papa,  and  now  is  our  oppor- 
tunity/' she  said  and  began  to  read  aloud. 

"A  very  ordinary  book,  my  dear !"  he  remarked  when 
she  had  finished  the  second  chapter.  "To  my  mind, 
quite  inferior  to  his  other  works !" 

She  laid  it  down.  "Well,  then,  we'll  talk/'  she  said 
with  assumed  cheerfulness.  "You  can  tell  me  about 
Paris — your  Paris — " 

"My  Paris,"  remarked  Mr.  Rossi ter,  "did  net  detain 
you  forcibly  within  its  walls.  Hy  Paris  was  smiling,, 
beautiful — not  coarse,  brutal!" 

She  did  not  controvert  him,  only  gazed  mechanically 
without. 

That  night  a  desultory  bombardment  of  the  city  be- 
gan; a  brief  demonstration,  and  stillness  again  reigned. 

But  for  Elinor  sleep  seemed  out  of  the  question.  To- 
ward midnight  her  father  dozed  and  noiselessly  she  stole 
out  of  his  chamber  into  the  sitting-room.  A  chill  air 


358  BLACK  FEIDAY 

had  descended  on  the  city,  and  with  a  shiver,  she  drew 
her  wrapper  closer,  then  stooping  before  the  hearth 
touched'  a  match  to  the  pine  cones  in  the  grate.  Tiny 
flames  sprang  up,  played  upon  the  coal,  and  a  loud 
crackling  filled  the  room.  She  closed  the  door  so  that  the 
noise  might  not  awaken  her  father  and  then,  sinking  in- 
to a  chair,  sat  with  widely  opened  eyes  before  the  fire. 
Her  mind  was  unusually  active,  reviewing  the  events  of 
their  trip  and  sojourn  abroad;  her  father's  illness  and 
the  attendant  cares;  the  months  of  self-repression.  As 
her  thoughts  swept  further  back,  her  foot  moved  ner- 
vously to  and  fro.  She  recalled'  herself  as  she  had  been 
toward  Eichard  Strong- — imperious,  capricious,  incon- 
sistent. She  did  not  feel  at  all  capricious  at  present.  She 
wondered  what  he  was  doing;  if  he  ever  thought  of  her. 
Of  course  not,  unless — her  hands  clasped  together  and 
long  she  looked  at  the  fire  until  into  her  eyes  came  a 
mist  which  threatened  to  blind  her. 

The  next  day  she  could  not  even  reach  the  office  of  the 
prefecture,  as  the  thoroughfares  in  that  neighborhood 
had  been  turned  into  camps  and  the  guards  refused  to 
allow  her  to  pass.  But  one  course  was  open  for  her,  and, 
returning  to  the  house,  she  addressed  a  letter  to  the 
authorities. 

The  mills  of  the  new  government,  however,  like  those 
of  the  gods,  ground  slowly,  and  day  after  day  passed 


THE  GAMIN  AND  THE  KOSE  359 

without  reply,  until  in  the  order  of  events  an  unforeseen 
embarrassment  arose.  Stimulated  by  the  possibility  of 
a  second  siege,  prices  had  soared  higher  and  higher  and 
Elinor,  after  meeting  the  doctor's  bill,  the  apothecary's 
account  and  madame's  demands,  found  she  had  fairly 
exhausted  the  funds  they  had  brought  with  them.  This 
at  first  gave  her  no  apprehension,  for  she  had  written 
to  Mr.  Kossiter's  London  banker  for  more  money,  but 
one  day  the  edict  went  forth  that  no  letters  or  telegrams 
should  be  delivered  in  Paris. 

Before  her  faither  she  put  the  brightest  face  on  the 
matter. 

"Well,  here  we  are  fairly  marooned,  papa !  We  might 
as  well  be  on  a  desert  island/' 

But  to  the  woman  she  said  later,  not  without  anxiety  J 
"If  no  letters  are  delivered,  haw  can  I  pay  you  ?" 

The  other's  heavy  face  expressed  a  trace  of  emotion. 

"Perhaps  you  would — trust  us?" 

"It  costs  money  to  trust,"  was  the  deliberate  reply, 
"I  haven't  any." 

"You  mean  that  you — you  would  turn  us  out  ?" 

"There  is  the  Mont-de-Piete !"  coldly. 

The  pawn-shop !  '  Fortunately  a  branch  of  that  use- 
ful establishment,  conducted  by  the  government,  lay 
within  a  district  Elinor  could  reach  without  being 
stopped  by  the  guards,  and  perforce  acting  upon  the 


360  BLACK  FKIDAY 

woman's  suggestion,  the  girl  at  once  set  out  as  cheerfully 
as  she  might  upon  her  novel  errand. 

Arriving  at  her  destination,  she  was  again  obliged  to 
exercise  her  patience,  for  the  place  was  crowded;  on 
every  side  pale,  wan  faces  speaking  of  misery  and  want. 
Among  these  people  she  waited  she  knew  not  how  long, 
but  finally  a  sharp-eyed,  not  unkindly-looking  man  be- 
hind a  desk  motioned  to  her  and  she  approached,  open- 
ing a  small  bag  she  carried  and  displaying  sundry  little 
relics  and'  heirlooms. 

"You  must  leave  these  to  be  appraised  by  the  com- 
mittee," said  the  man.  "Then  we  will  advance  four- 
fifths  of  their  value." 

"I  should  prefer  the  money  at  once — whatever  you 
please — only  I  must  have  it  now !"  she  returned  quickly. 

He  studied  the  pale,  refined  face,  behind  the  dark 
veil. 

"Well,  I  will  take  the  responsibility  of  a  small  ad- 
vance/' he  answered  after  a  moment. 

A  brooch  that  had  belonged  to  some  foremother  of 
Maiden  Lane,  or  Maid's  Path,  in  old  New  York,  brought 
Elinor  only  the  small  sum  of  thirty  francs.  A  locket 
containing  a  portrait  of  a  lady  attired  in  a  gown  of 
baize — suggesting  the  inevitable  petticoat  of  linsey-wool- 
sey beneath — fared  little  better,  but  an  antique  bracelet, 


THE  GAMIN  AND  THE  EOSE  361 

set  with  rubies,  was  awarded  a  sum  so  large  by  the 
critical  examiner,  that  Elinor  forthwith  returned  the 
rest  of  her  wares  to  the  little  bag. 

"You  can  redeem  these  articles/'  said  the  man,  cour- 
teously, "any  time  within  fourteen  months.  After  that, 
they  will  be  sold." 

Thanking  him,  she  thrust  the  notes  gladly  into  her 
dress,  and,  folding  up  the  receipt  which  he  handed  her, 
escaped  as  quickly  as  might  be  from  that  scene  of  penury 
and  distress.  But  the  effect  of  it  lingered,  one  figure — 
that  of  a  poor  old  man — especially  haunting  her.  Now 
she  experienced  a  sudden  compunction  that  she  had  for- 
gotten him  in  her  new-found  affluence,  and  hesitating, 
she  was  half -minded  to  return,  when  a  carriage,  driving 
by  near  the  curb,  attracted  her  attention  and  arrested  her 
purpose.  In  the  vehicle,  which  was  drawn  by  a  superb 
pair  of  horses,  reclined  a  woman  who  smiled  upon  the 
throng. 

"La  Tielle  Zoldene!"  cried  a  street  urchin,  running  to- 
ward the  equipage. 

The  woman  in  the  carriage  laughed  and  threw  a 
flower  to  the  boy. 

"Zoldene !    Zoldene !"  repeated  a  number  of  people. 

Quickly  Elinor  looked  up — as  quickly  drew  back.  Be-> 
side  the  dancer  was  seated  a  man,  and,  as  the  equipage 
dashed  on,  the  girl  had  the  startling  impression  of  a 


362  BLACK  FKIDAY 

familiar  face — a  face  linked  with  the  past — different — 
— yet — 

"A  rose !    A  rose !    Who'll  buy  a  rose?" 

The  urchin  was  at  her  elbow;  his  face  grotesque,  imp- 
ish; his  grimy  hand  holding  out  the  rose.  Hastily  she 
turned;  hurried  on.  Fragments  of  Posie's  last  letter, 
received  on  the  day  of  their  arrival  in  Paris,  recurred  to 
her :  "What  do  you  think,  my  dear  ?  Charlie  Dalton  is 
married  and  has  been  for  some  time.  To  whom  ?  To  an 
actress ;  a  variety  actress ;  Zoldene !  It  came  out  in  one 
of  the  papers — together  with  the  details.  I  see  your 
start  of  surprise.  Yet  it  is  really  and  truly  true/' 

But  to  have  met  them  both  thus  in  Paris !  A  strange 
phantasmagoria  of  figures  mingled  and  dissolved  in  the 
girl's  imagination:  The  woman  throwing  flowers  to 
people  who  were  hungry ;  the  pinched-f  aced  urchin,  with 
the  rose  in  his  tattered  coat;  Dalton — another  face — far 
away — dominating  all !  And  amid  these  unwonted  im- 
pressions but  one  desire  was  paramount:  to  leave  Paris 
at  once ;  to  escape  from  that  anomalous  environment ! 

The  permission  to  leave !  If  only  the  prefecture  of 
police  would  hasten  and  send — 

"Madame,  the  passports  have  come,"  said  the  woman, 
as  Elinor  entered  the  Fracard  house.  "They  came  while 
you  were  away." 

Almost  joyfully  the  girl  took  them :  "Then  we  will  go 


THE  GAMIN  AND  THE  KOSE  363 

at  once — to-day.  Get  the  tickets  for  us  and  call  a  car- 
riage." 

The  woman  regarded  the  money  Elinor  thrust  into 
her  hand. 

"Your  father  is  not  so  well,"  she  remarked  bluntly. 
"You  were  gone  so  long  he  insisted  upon  dressing  to  go 
out  to  look  for  you.  At  the  door  he  fell  down  and  we 
had  to  carry  him  back  to  his  room." 

With  a  cry  the  girl  turned  and  ran  swiftly  up  the 
stairs. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

AN  UNSUCCESSFUL  SEARCH 

One  early  morning  about  a  fortnight  later  a 
man  tried  for  the  second  time  that  day  to  get 
into  the  city  of  Paris.  After  having  been 
stopped  on  the  train  and  turned  back  because  his 
ignorance  of  the  language  of  the  country  had  made 
it  impossible  for  him  to  understand  the  questions 
of  the  passenger  inspector,  he  had  proceeded  on 
foot  along  the  road,  or  across  the  meadow  land 
skirting  the  wall  of  the  capital.  At  times  he  ad- 
vanced to  the  edge  of  the  moat  and  paused,  looking 
across  to  where,  beyond  the  long  grass  and  bright  flowers 
crowning  rampart  and  bastion,  arose  the  neighboring 
housetops,  mockingly  near. 

But  such  open  reconnaissance  was  not  without  its 
danger;  a  puff  of  smoke  issued  from  the  parapet,  and 
quietly  the  man  moved  back;  at  a  more  respectful 
distance  continued  on  his  way,  but  ever  with  his  eyes 
bent  on  the  cold,  gray  outlines  of  the  stone  barrier. 
Now  he  was  trampling  a  neglected  garden  patch,  when 
364 


AN  UNSUCCESSFUL  SEAECH  365 

suddenly  he  stopped;  an  opening  through  the  solid 
masonry  rewarded  his  gaze. 

Save  for  a  single  sentinel,  the  immediate  vicinity 
was  deserted,  but  as  the  man  drew  near,  the  half-nod- 
ding soldier  of  the  people  straightened  and  in  a 
drowsy  voice  commanded  him  to  halt.  The  other 
obeyed;  looked  around  him  again,  noting  the  solitary 
aspect  of  the  place  at  that  early  hour. 

"Your  pass !" 

An  obstinate  light  came  into  the  man's  eyes;  if  he 
did  not  advance,  neither  did  he  retreat,  and  the  guard 
raised  his  weapon  menacingly.  Another  moment  and 
the  stranger  would  have  answered  for  his  contempt 
of  military  authority,  when  quickly  he  lifted  his  hand 
to  his  breast,  drawing  forth  a  bit  of  paper.  Grumbling, 
the  sentinel  allowed  him  to  approach.  But  even  as 
the  former  stared  first  with  surprise  and  then  with 
suspicion  at  the  paper,  striving  to  decipher  it,  the  si- 
lence was  broken  by  a  loud  hollow  reverberation — the 
report  of  a  gun  from  the  heights  of  the  city. 

At  the  sound  the  guard  involuntarily  glanced  over 
his  shoulder,  a  lapse  of  alertness  that  was  but  mo- 
mentary, yet  sufficient  for  the  stranger.  Quick  as  a 
flash  he  sprang  upon  the  sentinel;  his  arm  straight- 
ened, and  the  guard  fell  limply  to  the  earth,  his  gun 
clattering  beside  him.  The  man  stooped,  grasped  the 


3G6  BLACK  FRIDAY 

bit  of  paper  and  ran  through  the  gate.  Turning  into 
a  narrow  highway,  he  soon  lost  himself  in  a  net-work 
of  thoroughfares. 

For  some  time  he  continued  walking  at  a  sharp 
pace,  apparently  with  no  more  definite  purpose  than 
to  escape  pursuit,  hut  at  length  his  gait  began  to  re- 
lax and  finally  he  stopped  short  altogether.  Seating 
himself  on  the  edge  of  a  mutilated  monument — the 
crowning  figure  of  which  was  Glory  with  its  wings 
blown  off — he  opened  a  clenched  hand  and  smoothed 
out  the  crumpled  bit  of  paper: 

"Am  ill.  Elinor  helpless  and  in  great  danger.  Can 
you  come?  Edwin  Rossiter." 

"In  great  danger"!  He  had  not  hesitated;  he  had 
not  thought  of  hesitating  upon  receiving  it. 

And  now — if  Mr.  Eossiter  only  had  not  failed  to 
send  an  address !  Rising,  Richard  Strong  moved  on, 
up  the  height  where  once  the  temple  of  Mars  is  said 
to  have  stood.  Xear  the  summit  he  paused. 

Below  lay  a  comprehensive  view  of  Paris,  and  keenlj 
he  searched  that  maze,  noting  where  the  tangle  o: 
streets  huddled  between  the  straight  lines  of  the 
broader  thoroughfares,  and  how,  amid  the  maze,  like  a 
silver  ribbon,  shone  the  placid  river.  In  fancy  lit 
traced  his  way  toward  it,  and  then,  descending  by  a 


AN  UNSUCCESSFUL  SEAECH  367, 

different  and  more  precipitous  route,  resolutely  set 
his  face  toward  the  actual  accomplishment. 

As  he  proceeded,  the  city  began  to  show  signs  of 
awakening  life;  an  animation  as  feverish  as  unnatural. 
People  seemed  to  spring  mysteriously  from  the  very 
pavements,  and  of  one  accord  to  wend  their  way  to  a 
neighboring  church,  as  if  there  existed  among  them  a 
strange  unanimity  of  purpose — surely  no  devotional 
sentiment— drawing  them  to  the  sacred  edifice.  For 
a  moment*  Eichard  Strong  watched  them,  then,  moved 
by  a  special  object  of  his  own,  became  part  and  parcel 
of  that  variegated  and  chaotic  inflow. 

The  interior  was  filled  with  tobacco  smoke  and  in 
the  font  was  tobacco  from  which  the  elect  were  at 
liberty  to  help  themselves.  .Glasses  and  wine  bottles 
covered  the  altar  and  in  the  pulpit  a  woman  was 
speaking,  her  topic,  the  "rights"  of  the  sex;  the  right 
not  to  marry ;  the  right  to  live  with  any  man ;  the  right 
to  leave  him  at  pleasure;  the  right  to  do  anything! 

Without  comprehending,  Eichard  Strong  listened. 
He  had1  thought  that  perhaps  in  that  throng  might  be 
discerned  an  English  or  an  American  face,  but  the 
visages  he  encountered  were  nondescript,  inhuman.  All 
save  one — 

"What  would  Monsieur  like  to  drink?" 


368  BLACK  FRIDAY 

A  grisette  had  drawn  near,  smiling. 

"They  are  going  to  burn  up  the  city  to-night, 
Monsieur,  so  we  might  as  well  be  merry." 

He  gazed  from  them  to  her;  then  walked  slowly  to 
the  door.  Was  this  Paris?  A  few  words  beat  per- 
sistently upon  him.  "Elinor — in  danger — "  And 
thinking  of  the  time  that  had  elapsed  since  the  send- 
ing of  the  message  and  his  arrival  in  the  city,  keener 
misgivings  assailed  him. 

That  afternoon  he  went  to  all  the  hotels  centrally 
located.  Many  were  closed;  a  few  remained  open, 
accommodating,  however,  but  a  scanty  number  of 
guests,  stranded  in  Paris. 

He  drove  where  he  could,  urging  the  drivers  to  make 
haste;  when  he  walked,  it  was  with  a  quick,  nervous 
step.  Often  the  sentinels  stopped  him,  and  in  spite  of 
his  tenacity,  he  was  obliged  to  turn  back.  The  coming 
of  night  found  him  still  unsuccessfully  pursuing  his 
search  and  with  but  one  more  name  on  the  list  of  ho- 
tels he  had  managed  to  procure. 

At  this  place,  near  the  Seine,  a  man  with  a  pair  of 
boots  in  his  hands  seemed  to  be  the  most  important  per- 
sonage. 

"We  have  only  one  guest,"  he  explained  in  broken 
English;  "and" — with  a  mournful  gesture — "he  went 
out  and  hasn't  come  back.  These  are  his  boots." 


AN  UNSUCCESSFUL  SEAECH  369 

"The  gentleman  and  lady  I  am  looking  for  were  in 
Paris  about  a  fortnight  ago.  I  have  been  to  all  the 
principal  hotels." 

"Perhaps  they  went  to  one  of  the  small  hotels  for 
French  people/* 

Richard  Strong  caught  at  the  suggestion.  He  knew 
that  Mr.  Rossiter  had  lived  in  Paris  before  and  dur- 
ing the  empire,  and  that  he  understood  thoroughly  the 
language  of  the  country. 

"Where  are  these  places?"  he  asked. 

"Everywhere." 

"Take  me  to  them." 

A  curt  refusal  was  the  response.  "Paris! — at  night 
— away  from  the  main  streets — to  go  hunting  about 
everywhere !  I  prefer  it  here — indoors." 

Richard  Strong  laid  his  hand  on  the  man's  arm. 
"Look  here,"  he  said  almost  roughly.  "You've  got  to 
take  me.  Name  your  own  price — two  hundred  francs 
— five  hundred — but  you  must  go." 

The  man  dropped  a  shoe;  looked  down  thoughtfully. 

"Whether  I  am  successful,  or  nof  ?" 

"Yes." 

"It  is  dangerous — but  for  five  hundred  francs — 
I'll  go!"  he  said  with  sudden  decision.  "That  is, 
alone — it  will  be  safer.  You  can  stay  here — and  I 
will  return — as  soon  as  I  can." 


370  BLACK  FKIDAY 

"I  tell  you  we've  got  to  go  together." 

The  man's  face  took  on  a  sullen  expression,  and  ap- 
parently Kichard  Strong  saw  that  no  further  concession 
might  be  expected. 

"Go  alone  then/'  he  said  shortly.  "If  you  find 
them,  I  will  double  the  amount." 

Quickly  the  man  put  oca  his  cap  and  handed  the 
other  a  key.  "Should  you  go  out,  lock  the  door." 

Mr.  Strong  returned  no  answer;  alone  he  began  to 
survey  his  surroundings.  A  pair  of  candles,  burn- 
ing unevenly,  faintly  illumined  the  little  office  in 
which  he  stood,  revealing  its  meager  furnishings:  a 
single  chair;  a  shelf  for  candles;  a  key  rack,  and  a 
small  table  upon  which  was  the  porter's  scanty  re- 
past— a  loaf  of  bread  and  a  bottle  of  wine.  For  some 
time  Eiehard  Strong  sat  in  the  semi-darkness,  waiting, 
thinking,  but  so  many  pictures  crowded  upon  him 
that  to  ward  them  off  he  arose,  pacing  to  and  fro. 
An  occasional  report  broke  the  stillness  of  the  night; 
a  strange  smell  was  in  the  air,  the  odor  of  burning 
petroleum.. 

How  long  did  this  endure?  Suddenly  he  became 
aware  that  the  door  leading  to  the  street  had  opened 
softly  and  at  first  he  thought  it  was  the  wind;  then 
discerned  an  arm  thrust  through  the  opening;  an 
arm  that  threw  something  within !  Richard  Strong 


AN  UNSUCCESSFUL  SEAECH  371 

stepped  forward  and,  as  he  did  so,  the  intruder  lighted  a 
match,  the  glare  of  which  revealed  a  wild,  haggard  face. 
It — she — too  saw  him;  a  shriek  pierced  the  air  and 
the  light  fell  to  the  floor.  At  the  same  time  a  chorus 
of  voices  arose  without: 

"Les  petroleuses!" 

Several  shots  were  followed  by  a  muffled  cry,  and 
Richard  Strong,  now  standing  in  the  doorway,  gazed 
upon  a  motionless,  hud'dled-up  figure  lying  on  the  pave- 
ment; at  the  smoking  weapons  of  the  guard,  already 
disappearing.  Near  the  fleshless,  outstretched  hand  lay 
a  bottle,  and  regarding  this  receptacle  in  connection 
with  the  scene  just  witnessed,  he  had  no  difficulty  divin- 
ing the  inspiring  incendiary  purpose.  Left  where  it  had 
fallen,  the  figure  of  the  "petroleum  woman,"  clad  in 
rags,  was  exposed  to  the  wheels  of  every  passing  vehicle 
and  he  drew  the  body  to  the  sidewalk;  then  turning 
from  this  task,  as  repellent  as  it  had  seemed  imperative, 
he  stood  hesitating  beside  it. 

He  felt  the  need  of  action — movement.  The  thought 
of  remaining  longer  in  the  little  office  was  intolerable, 
and  telling  himself  he  would  not  go  far,  he  walked  down 
the  street.  The  same  question  reiterated  in  his  mind: 
If  the  porter  failed,  what  then?  The  bright  lights  of  a 
naming  entrance  attracted  his  attention,  and  a  great 
lithograph  pasted  on  the  wall  caught  his  eye.  The  build- 


372  BLACK  FKIDAY 

ing  was  a  theater ;  the  announcement,  a  burlesque  then 
being  performed  there. 

How  Jolly  Life  Is!  was  the  title  of  the  piece,  and,  in 
exemplification  of  the  name,  a  woman  with  figure  pre- 
posterous, Parisian,  was  exhibited  dancing,  a  tricolor  in 
one  hand  and  over  her  shoulder  a  bayonet  with  a  bunch 
of  roses  on  its  tip. 

"Zoldene  as  the  Communist  Zouave !"  read  the  an- 
nouncement. 

He  drew  his  breath  quickly.  So  she  was  here,  too? 
And  Elinor? — Dalton?  The  blood  suddenly  rushed  to 
Richard  Strong's  head.  A  moment  he  stood;  then 
wheeled  about  and  entered  the  temple  of  pleasure. 


CHAPTER  V 

A   STRANGE  ENCOUNTER 

A  seat  on  the  aisle,  not  far  from  the  back,  was 
turned  down  for  him,  and  as  he  sank  into  it  a 
woman,  primly  attired,  knelt  at  his  feet;  ad- 
justed a  footstool;  then  alert,  expectant,  straightened 
herself.  But  the  customary  response  was  not  forth- 
coming. She  raised  her  brows. 

"The  program,  Monsieur !" 

He  took  it  and  deliberately  she  held  out  her  hand. 
When  she  drew  it  back  the  ironical  look  had  vanished; 
her  lips  were  voluble  with  thanks.  At  that  moment,  how- 
ever, Richard  Strong  had  no  heed  for  her,  or  any  single 
person.  He  was  conscious  only  of  an  effect;  the  merg- 
ing of  the  phantoms  of  the  day — gross,  ragged,  gibber- 
ing in  the  holy  light  of  stained  glass  windows — into  a 
more  glittering,  yet  not  less  seemingly  fallacious, 
throng.  But  soon  that  general  impression — a  percep- 
tion of  over-vivid  hues  and  Paphian,  painted  puppets — 
was  succeeded  by  the  more  specific,  special  cognizance 
of  a  single  figure. 

373 


374:  BLACK  FKIDAY 

•  She  stood  before  the  footlights  singing.  Her  scanty 
costume  frankly  revealed  the  trim  outlines  of  her  figure ; 
a  hat,  a  la  RepvbUque,  crowned  her  glossy  curls,  and 
upon  her  shoulder,  emphasizing  its  powdered  whiteness, 
a  black  velvet  bow  waved  like  a  mammoth  moth.  In 
the  white  light  of  the  calcium  she  glittered  and  gleamed, 
and  while  her  voice  was  not  that  of  a  Malibran  or  a 
Pasta,  her  audacity  and  vivacity  were  well  calculated  to 
beguile  an  audience  into  evidences  of  approval. 

She  took  a  high  note  execrably,  but  at  the  conclusion 
of  the  tone,  gave  her  head  such  a  prima-donna-like  toss 
and  regarded  her  listeners  with  such  a  ravishing  smile, 
even  the  critical  auditor  forgot  the  singer  in  con- 
templation of  the  siren. 

"Bravo,  Zoldene!" 

.Whereupon  she  showed  her  white  teeth  and  a  dimple 
and  fluttered  to  the  footlights.  Again  the  faulty  tones; 
once  more  the  persuasive  battery  of  smiles;  the  varying 
postures  designed  to  display  to  advantage  the  white 
shoulders  and  rounded  arms. 

"Why  are  you  so  sober,  Monsieur  ?" 

A  girl,  wearing  a  Legion  of  Honor  sash,  bent  forward, 
significantly  regarding  the  vacant  place  next  to  Richard 
Strong. 

"Aren't  you  going  to  ask  me  to  sit  down  ?" 

He  made  no  motion  to  remove  his  hat  from  the  seat. 


A  STRANGE  ENCOUNTER  375 

"Poof !"  she  said,  drawing  back  with  a  gesture  of  dis- 
appointment. "You  are  not  very  polite/' 

As  through  a  mist — or  was  it  the  smoke  that  waved 
and  wavered  around  them? — the  figure  on  the  stage 
approached  and  receded.  Still  the  shrill  treble  over- 
rode the  clatter  and  din  of  the  soldiers  of  fortune,  blase 
dandies  and  their  lorettes.  A  sprightly  infectious 
rhythm,  it  was,  however,  in  turn  interrupted,  dominated 
by  a  more  stentorian  voice : 

"Paris  is  burning!" 

As  a  passing  cloud  transforms  the  surface  aspect  of 
the  sunlit  water,  so  a  nameless  fear  changed  and  dark- 
ened the  appearance  of  that  sea  of  smiling  faces.  Upon 
the  stage  the  words  of  the  song  died  on  Zoldene's  lips; 
those  in  the  background  began  to  move  about  in  dis- 
order. 

"Go  on !    Go  on  I" 

The  leader  of  the  musicians  stamped  his  feet;  vio- 
lently waved  his  baton.  In  quavering  tones  Zoldene  be- 
gan once  more ;  gaining  confidence  as  she  proceeded,  her 
manner  again  became  jaunty,  reckless. 

"Paris  is  burning!" 

The  conductor  by  this  time,  however,  had  the  per- 
formers well  in  control,  beating  time  with  his  fists, 
with  furious  sweeps  of  his  long  arms. 

"Presto !— More  life  !  more  fire !" 


376  BLACK  FRIDAY 

"The  Tuileries  is  in  flames ! — the  Louvre ! — the  Rue 
Eoyale— " 

Above  a  carnival  of  hues — fluttering  dolls  with  sashes 
of  all  colors,  and  bows  of  enormous  proportions  fastened 
upon,  or  perched  on  their  dresses — Richard  Strong  sud- 
denly discerned  an  unresponsive  figure  which  arrested 
his  attention  to  the  exclusion  of  all  else. 

He  was  seated  in  a  box — a  young  man ;  his  face  mark- 
ed with  premature  lines;  his  eyes,  cold;  his  expression, 
bored.  "With  a  half-contemptuous,  half-ironical  look 
his  gaze  slowly  swept  the  multitude ;  then  stopped.  The 
languor  faded  from  his  expression  and  with  a  start  he 
leaned  forward,  staring  at  Richard'  Strong. 

"The  theater  is  on  fire  !— the  theater !— " 

A  puff  of  smoke  had  curled  outward  from  behind  and 
arose  like  a  thin  veil.  It  was  followed  by  a  denser  cloud 
and  on  the  instant  the  romping  dolls  were  stricken 
motionless  like  automatons  that  had  run  down.  Merri- 
ment gave  way  to  terror;  laughter,  to  shrieks.  Involun- 
tarily Richard  Strong  had  stepped  toward  Dalton,  when, 
caught  in  the  outward  rush  of  the  swaying  throng,  he 
was  carried  on  as  by  a  torrent.  Powerless  to  resist, 
held  in  that  mighty  whirl,  his  strength  was  as  nothing  to 
the  aggregate  force  brought  to  bear  upon  him.  In  the 
narrow  doorway  the  jam  became  greater;  a  moment 
he  realized  the  weight  about  him  was  crushing  him 


A  STRANGE  ENCOUNTER  377 

into  unconsciousness;  then  suddenly  he  was  shot  forth 
against  a  wall. 

Above,  the  heavens  were  red;  against  the  glowing 
background  flashes  of  light  played  ominously.  Scarcely 
conscious  of  what  he  was  doing,  he  staggered  on,  ani- 
mated by  a  single  purpose.  The  hotel — he  would  re- 
turn there — perhaps  the  porter  had  come  back — perhaps 
he  had  learned  something! 

As  Richard  Strong  raised  his  head,  the  Seine,  now 
a  river  of  molten  fire,  burst  upon  his  gaze.  Gleaming 
with  the  radiance  from  a  burning  palace,  it  swept 
on,  lapping  the  stone  confines  of  its  course  with  phos- 
phorescent rays.  Soon  they  grew  darker,  as  from  the 
sullen  caldron,  where  once  monarchs  had  played  at 
"divine  rights,"  outpoured  an  increasing  volume  of 
smoke  which  now  blotted  from  the  sky  the  vivid  hues. 
Only  a  sickly  glow  shot  at  intervals  through  the  fumid 
mantle,  making  the  shadows  appear  deeper,  the  streets 
more  gloomy,  and  the  people,  tristful  specters  that 
walked  in  darkness.  But  that  they  were  not  mere 
melancholy  shadows,  creatures  passionless  from  the 
realms  of  night,  was  quickly  made  manifest  to  the 
man  near  the  river. 

"Les  petroleuses!" 

The  dimness  of  the  night  became  alive  with  human 
figures;  a  final  explosion  from  the  palace  again  lighted 


378  BLACK  FRIDAY 

up  the  scene  and  in  that  brief  interval  Richard  Strong 
saw  the  face  and  figure  of  a  girl,  standing  on  the  side- 
walk, around  her  a  number  of  people.  A  moment 
amazement,  incredulity,  held  him  motionless,  incapable 
of  action.  Still  the  light  played  on  her  features. 

"Kill  her!" 

"The  Seine! — throw  her  into  the  Seine!" 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  BREAKING  OF  THE  DAY 

Blinded  by  the  glare,  the  girl  had  started  back, 
only  to  feel  her  wrist  seized  in  a  grip  like  iron.  In 
vain  she  endeavored  to  resist,  struggling  as  best  she 
might,  but  still  the  dark  forms,  now  dimly  discerned, 
crowded  around  her.  A  feeling  that  it  was  the  end 
was  succeeded  by  a  vague,  dumb  wonder.  Some  one 
had  leaped  into  the  throng  and  was  striking  among 
them ;  an  instant  she  was  lost  in  a  whirl,  and  then  the 
grasp  upon  her  wrist  was  released. 

"Run!  Rim  I" 

Vainly  she  strove  to  obey ;  her  feet  were  as  lead,  when 
a  compelling  arm  thrust  her  forward  and  again  she  found 
herself  capable  of  motion.  Bewildered,  she  could  not 
realize  what  had  happened;  what  it  all  meant.  Some 
people  had  attacked  her;  some  one  had  made  it  possible 
for  her  to  escape.  Or  was  it  possible? 

"Les  petroleuses!" 

Now  she  began  to  understand — the  "petroleum  wo- 
men [" — they  thought  she  was  one  of  them.  The  bottle 
379 


380  BLACK  FKIDAY 

for  medicine  that  she  had  been  carrying  had  condemned 
her. 

Her  feet  began  to  lag,  when  from  behind  a  hand 
touched  her  shoulder;  she  strove  to  shake  it  off;  the 
fingers  tightened  and  the  world  went  round. 

"Elinor  I" 

Some  one  caught  her;  raised  her.  Through  the  half- 
apathy  of  her  thoughts  a  familiar  voice  insinuated  it- 
self. 

"Elinor!" 

Her  eyes  opened;  bewilderment,  joy  crowded  her 
brain. 

"Richard !" 

She  felt  his  arm  thrown  about  her ;  herself  dragged  on. 
The  darkness  seemed  to  press  upon  her  and  she  found 
herself  imagining  it  was  all  but  a  waking  dream. 

Suddenly  he  stopped. 

"The  hotel— if  I  could  but  find  it—" 

Unfortunately  the  buildings  were  of  a  pattern,  pre- 
senting a  wearisome  uniformity  of  style,  and  in  vain 
he  glanced  on  either  side,  striving  to  single  out  that 
refuge  that  he  knew  to  be  so  near.  Even  as  he  searched, 
closer  came  the  pattering  of  feet. 

A  moment  they  regarded  each  other;  swiftly  glance 
met  glance.  Like  a  flash  of  light,  her  eyes,  bright, 


THE  BEEAKING  OF  THE  DAY          381 

burning,  responded  to  the  questioning,  devouring  eager- 
ness of  his. 

"Leave  me,"  she  said.    "Why  should  you,  too — " 

Hastily  he  thrust  her  behind  him.  Life  had 
grown  strangely  sweet;  the  irony  of  fortune — that  he 
had  found  her  too  late — awoke  a  fierce  revolt  in  his 
breast.  With  lowering  brow  he  stood  awaiting  their  as- 
sailants when  a  cry  escaped  Elinor  and  he  turned.  In 
pressing  back  she  had  pushed  against  a  door  which  had 
swung  open  behind  her.  Quickly  entering,  he  drew  her 
after  him;  the  d'oor  closed;  his  hand  sought,  found,  a 
bolt  which  he  shot.  Almost  simultaneously  blows  re- 
sounded on  the  woodwork  from  without,  but  the  door, 
like  many  another,  had  been  strengthened  during  the 
siege. 

"Are  we  safe  now?" 

His  answer  was  drowned  by  a  crash  that  made  the 
door  tremble;  again,  and  it  gave  way.  Her  hand 
touched  his  arm  and  he  caught  her  to  him. 

"Elinor !— love !— " 

At  that  moment  a  strange  sound  arose  from  the 
street,  at  first  a  weird  monotone,  then  a  screech  which 
sent  the  people  fleeing  from  the  entrance.  An  instant's 
silence,  and  the  iron  messenger  from  the  heights  of 
Montmartre  performed  its  wonted  functions.  No  res- 
pecter of  persons,  it  struck  down  alike  Communard  or 


382  BLACK  FRIDAY 

stranger,  man  or  woman,  and  thereafter,  for  some  time 
no  living  being  was  seen  stirring  near  that  spot. 

When  consciousness  at  length  slowly  returned  to 
Richard  Strong,  he  continued  to  lie  without  motion, 
staring  straight  upward.  A  band  of  steel  seemed  press- 
ing around  his  head;  his  thoughts  were  confused.  Into 
the  throbbing  of  his  brain  crept  a  vague  recollection— 
a  river,  now  silver,  then  red.  Eed ! — white ! — the  colors 
danced  before  him.  Then  the  warm  hue  lingered  and 
with  it  came  the  rest  of  the  picture. 

"Elinor !"  he  said,  and  sat  up. 

Only  the  echoes  answered.  Again  he  spoke;  strove  to 
listen;  then  began  to  grope  around  until  he  touched 
something  soft — a  dress !  Bending,  he  placed  an  un- 
steady hand  on  her  breast.  At  first  he  was  cognizant 
only  of  the  throbbing  in  his  brain,  a  steady  pulsation 
like  that  of  the  piston  of  a  boat ;  then  beneath  his  fingers 
he  felt  a  faint  motion.  Drawing  her  to  him,  he  pillowed 
her  head  upon  his  breast. 

Some  time  passed.  Occasionally  the  silence  without 
was  broken  by  the  rushing  of  feet,  the  flourish  of 
trumpets.  These  sounds — an  aching  sense  of  touch 
from  the  pressure  of  her  body,  which  was  both  pain  and 
pleasure — a  growing  perception  of  sight,  mingled  in  the 
stupor  of  his  brain.  Certain  rays  of  light  that  had  en- 


THE  BEEAKING  OF  THE  DAY          383 

tered  their  prison  grew  brighter  and  dimly  he  began  to 
discern  the  surrounding  objects:  A  wall  pierced  by  a 
window  beyond  his  reach;  to  the  left  a  few  steps  lead- 
ing upward  to  a  door. 

Kising,  he  placed  his  coat  beneath  her  head  and  cling- 
ing to  the  wall,  made  his  way  to  the  steps.  Mounting 
with  an  effort,  he  opened  a  door,  entered.  A  candle 
with  matches,  which  he  found  on  the  table,  he 
managed  to  light,  and  by  its  sputtering  rays  made  out  a 
small  apartment;  a  bottle  on  a  table;  a  loaf  of  bread. 
Over  a  couch  was  the  cord  that  opened  the  front  door 
and  near  the1  narrow  bed,  a  man's  pair  of  boots — 

Eichard  Strong  stared  at  the  boots  and  at  the  bottle, 
then  regarded  an  array  of  candles  on  a  shelf;  half- 
candles,  quarter-candles,  three-quarter  candles.  The 
place  was  familiar;  he  had  stood  in  that  room  before — • 
last  night !  The  door  that  had  opened  to  admit  them — • 
when  he  had  left  the  hotel  he  had  forgotten  to  lock  it. 

Again  he  descended  the  steps  and  lifting  the  uncon- 
scious girl  in  his  arms,  carried  her  to  the  couch,  when 
dizziness  overcame  him  and  he  fell  into  a  chair.  Less 
distinct  became  her  face;  he  told  himself  he  would 
not  yield,  and,  grasping  the  table,  forced  himself  to  rise. 
As  he  did  so,  a  door  to  the  left,  opening  into  a  garden  or 
inner  court,  was  abruptly  thrown  back  and  a  figure  stood 
in  the  entrance. 


384  BLACK  FEIDAY 

"Monsieur,  I  found  the  man,  but  his  daughter — " 
The  words  ceased  on  his  lips  and  wonderingly  he 
gazed  on  the  other. 

"I  have  found  her  myself,"  said  Kichard  Strong. 


CHAPTER  VII 

A  MYSTERIOUS   MESSAGE 

"Will  you  be  good  enough  to  tell  me  what  place  this 
is?" 

The  speaker,  lying  in  a  high  bed,  raised  himself  on 
his  elbow.  Apparently  the  apartment  was  strange  to 
his  eyes,  for  a  puzzled  look  crossed  his  face  and  his 
glance  wandered  perplexedly  to  a  person  seated  in  a  gilt 
chair  near  the  window.  The  burly  back  of  him  ad- 
dressed turned;  the  man  arose,  and,  approaching  the 
bed,  regarded  his  questioner  with  a  good-natured  smile. 

"The  Hotel  Republique." 

"How  long  have  I  been  here?" 

"About  twenty-four  hours/' 

Richard  Strong  studied  the  speaker. 

"Pardon  me,  if  I  ask—" 

"Who  I  am?    A  London  press  correspondent.    Went 

through  the  siege.     Know  Paris  in  feast  and  famine. 

Can  tell  you  that  kittens  taste  like  red  squirrels — that 

Angoras  are  preferable  to  stray  tabbies,  and  that  rats 

385 


386  BLACK  FKIDAY 

have  the  flavor  of  meadow-larks.  This  was  my  hotel — • 
left  it  and  was  unavoidably  detained.  When  I  got  back, 
found  part  of  it  gone.  Also  found  you  here — " 

The  other  stirred  uneasily. 

"The  lady — who  was  here  with  me?" 

"Was  not  injured.  The  porter  said  she  drove  off  to 
her  own  hotel  that  same  morning,  and  if  she  has  fol- 
lowed the  example  of  other  Americans  she  has  left  the 
city  by  this  time.  But  I  must  be  going  now;  will  drop 
in  again  later." 

Richard  Strong  stared  at  the  door  through  which 
the  speaker  vanished  and  then  looked  out  of  the  window. 
Beyond  the  tiny  red  flowers  of  a  vine  a  housetop  waved 
oddly  to  and  fro.  He  strove  to  sit  up,  whereupon  the 
flowers  began  to  dance  wildly,  like  elfish  things,  and 
again  he  fell  back.  His  eyes  closed,  and  housetop  and 
flowers  alike  faded  from  his  mind. 

He  was  vaguely  conscious  of  half-waking  several 
times  that  day,  of  speaking  with  a  doctor;  of  relapsing 
toward  nightfall  into  a  deeper  sleep.  When  he  again 
looked  around  him  his  vision  was  clearer;  the  dizziness 
had  left  him,  and,  reaching  from  the  bed,  he  pulled  a 
cord  hanging  to  the  wall.  The  passing  minutes  brought 
no  response;  impatiently  he  waited,  then  rising  slowly, 
began  to  dress.  On  a  little  table  near  the  bed  were 
rolls,  cold  fowl,  and  a  small  bottle  of  wine.  When  he 


A  MYSTERIOUS  MESSAGE  387 

had  eaten  he  was  able  to  make  his  way  along  the  hall 
and  descend  the  stairway. 

Deserted  was  the  little  office,  but  in  the  corridor  the 
porter  stood  directing  several  workmen  engaged  in  re- 
moving the  brick  and  mortar.  The  shattered  front  wall 
had  been  propped  up  with  heavy  upright  timbers  and 
the  task  of  repairing  the  havoc  was  proceeding  apace. 

At  the  unexpected  sight  of  his  guest  the  man  gave 
an  exclamation  of  surprise. 

"We  are  house-cleaning,  as  you  see/'  he  said,  recover- 
ing himself,  "preparing  for  the  coming  of  monsieur,  the 
proprietor,  who  returns  from  the  country  now  that  it  is 
all  over/' 

"What  is  over?" 

"The  Commune.  Which  reminds  me  of  my  errand 
for  Monsieur:  The  old  gentleman  and  his  daughter — 
they  are  at  Madame  Fracard's,  a  little  hotel  of  the  first 
Empire,  seldom  frequented  by  foreigners — once  noted 
for  its  cuisine." 

Richard  Strong  looked  down.  "The  lady  you  found 
here  with  me — had  she  quite  recovered  when  she  left?" 

"Yes,  Monsieur." 

"Has  any  one  called,  or  sent  word  ?" 

The  man  fumbled  in  his  blouse;  drew  forth  an  en- 
velope. "I  am  reminded  of  this  message — " 


388  BLACK  FRIDAY 

Hastily  the  other  glanced  at  it.  The  handwriting 
was  strange,  foreign. 

"Bow  do  I  get  to  the  street?"  he  said  absently. 

"If  Monsieur  does  not  mind  the  back  way — " 

Upon  the  avenues  and  boulevards  Mr.  Strong  found 
— or  would  have  observed,  had  he  been  in  an  observ- 
ant mood — evidences  of  activity  and  zeal  promising  a 
speedy  rehabilitation  of  the  city.  Those  who  had 
been  busily  engaged  in  tearing  up  pavements  only  a 
short  time  before,  were  now  no  less  zealously  occupied 
in  putting  them  down.  But  no  consideration  of  the 
outward  aspect  of  the  city  or  the  transformation  that 
had  already  come  to  pass,  now  occupied  Richard  Strong 
as  he  walked  on.  The  letter  the  porter  had  given  him 
engrossed  his  attention. 

"If  M.  Eichard  Strong  will  call  at  the  hospital, 
some  one  he  knows  who  is  dying  would  like  to  see 
him." 

Written  with  pencil  in  a  labored  hand  on  the  paper  of 
one  of  the  general  hospitals,  the  message  was  dated 
the  day  before  and  signed  by  one  of  the  Sisters. 

The  missive  wavered  in  his  hand — "some  one  he 
knew?" — but  the  porter  had  said — 

Calling  a  passing  carriage,  he  showed  the  address  to 
the  driver  and  entered  the  vehicle. 

At  the  hospital  he  exhibited  the  letter  to  a  man  in 


A  MYSTEKIOUS  MESSAGE.  389 

charge  in  the  little  office  at  the  door.  This  official 
looked  at  the  message;  rang  a  bell,  and  shortly  after- 
ward Richard  Strong  was  following  a  black-robed  Sis- 
ter down  the  corridor.  They  traversed  several  hall- 
ways; ascended  many  stairs,  but  finally  the  nurse 
stopped.,  and,  ushering  him  into  an  upper  ward,  indi- 
cated a  cot. 

At  the  visitor's  entrance  the  patient,  who  had  been 
lying  with  closed  eyes,  turned  his  head,  and,  with  a 
start  Richard  Strong  regarded,  then  recognized  him. 
And  yet  could  it  be — this  figure,  the  head  so  bound 
about  with  bandages  as  to  make  the  features  almost 
indistinguishable  ?  « jSTow  the  eyes  opened ;  stared 
around.  Pain,  fear,  as  from  the  remembrance  or  ef- 
fect of  some  never-to-be-forgotten  scene,  or  catastro- 
phe, shone  in  that  glance. 

"Mr.  Strong,"  he  whispered,  and  closed  his  eyes 
once  more. 

Quietly  the  Sister  brought  forward  a  chair,  placed 
it  at  the  bedside  and  Richard  Strong  seated  himself. 

"You  wanted  to  see  me?" 

The  lids  wavered. 

"Yes,"  murmured  Dalton  and  paused.  "It  was  good 
of  you — to  come."  In  Charlie's  blue  eyes  a  certain 
wistfulness  replaced  the  look  of  pain. 

"How,"  asked  Richard  Strong,  "did  you  find  me?" 


390  BLACK  FKIDAY 

"Yesterday — >Galignani  published — list  of  strangers, 
The  doctors  gave  me — but  a  day  or  two."  His  gaze 
looked  beyond  the  man  at  the  bedside.  "I'll  not  be 
sorry — when  it's  over." 

He  uttered  these  words  in  starts;  his  respiration 
short;  his  breathing  loud.  For  some  moments  no  other 
sound  broke  the  stillness  of  the  room;  then  his  glance 
fixed  itself  again  on  Mr.  Strong. 

"It  was  my  fault} — not  hers !  She  was  but  a  girl — ' 
seeking  diversion — unhappy.  That  day  you  saw  us — in 
the  street — I  waited  for  her — to  learn — she  had  never 
cared  for  me — " 

The  voice  became  weaker;  ceased;  then  he  lay  still. 
Richard  Strong,  too,  did  not  stir;  dark  shadows  fell 
around  him;  from  either  side  came  a  sigh,  or  a  moan, 
the  travail  of  some  spirit  drawing  nearer  the  inevitable 
goal.  '  Through  an  open  doorway  he  could  see  a  priest 
placing  a  vessel  of  oil  on  a  little  table  before  a  crucifix 
near  a  bed  and  dully  he  watched  him. 

"Corpus  Domini — " 

Life  and  its  passions;  death  and  its  mystery  vibrated 
in  the  sad,  majestic  cadence  of  those  tones. 

"A  poor  woman — Zoldene — who  was  injured,  too,  in 
the  burning  theater,"  whispered  the  nurse.  "She  has 
confessed  and  is  receiving  extreme  unction." 

As  she  spoke  she  crossed  the  hall  to  the  door;  closed 
it.  At  the  same  time  Dalton  stirred  uneasily. 


A  MYSTERIOUS  MESSAGE  391 

"What  is  that  ?" 

Pityingly  the  Sister  laid  a  soothing  hand  on  his. 
With  his  lingers  he  picked  at  the  coverlet,  while  his 
mind,  as  if  groping  in  that  gloom  that  was  falling 
around  him,  began  to  wander : 

"Gold,  one  thirty-six ! — a  quarter ! — how's  the  mark- 
et ?— sell !— buy !—" 

"Hush !" 

Again  the  nurse  endeavored  to  quiet  him,  but  he  did 
not  heed ;  apparently  his  thoughts  were  only  in  the  past, 
caught  up  in  the  maelstrom  of  that  late  September. 

"Gold ! — it's  coming  down ! — you  can't  hold  it ! — • 
we're  swamped ! — it's  all  been  a  foolish  dream ! — 
money ! — love ! — " 

He  endeavored  to  rise,  but  fell  back  with  a  moan. 

"I  tell  you  I  can  never  get  up,  Tom ;  never !" 

The  door  of  the  room  across  the  hall  opened;  with 
tinkling  bell  the  priest  came  out,  moved  on,  in  his  hand 
a  silver  chalice.  Did  Charlie  see  him ;  feel  the  breath  of 
that  black  gown  ?  Over  his  face  came  a  look  of  sudden 
relief, 

"The  bell !"  he  said.  "The  bell !  One— two— three— 
Thank  God,  the  day  is  done!" 


CHAPTER  VIII 

RICHARD  STRONG  LEAVES  PARIS 

Slowly  Eichard  Strong  began  to  retrace  his  way, 
conscious  now  of  weakness,  or  weariness,  or  both.  The 
front  entrance  of  the  hotel,  which  he  presently  reached, 
he  found  clear  of  rubbish,  and,  at  the  door,  the  rotund 
face  of  no  less  a  person  than  the  proprietor,  beaming 
with  the  good  humor  of  a  returned  exile. 

"Monsieur  wishes  a  room?"  he  said,  as  Eichard 
Strong  walked  in.  "Monsieur  already  has  a  room? 
Then  I  welcome  him,  or  rather  he  welcomes  me." 

"Has  any  one  been  here  to  see  me?" 

"No  one." 

Entering  a  little  smoking-room,  adjoining  the  office, 
Bichard  Strong  sank  into  a  chair;  mechanically  began 
to  look  over  the  English  and  American  papers  on  the 
table  in  the  center  of  the  room.  Through  force  of  habit 
he  glanced  at  the  quotations  of  the  American  market, 
but  his  mind  soon  wandered  from  fractions  and  figures, 
and  leaning  back,  he  endeavored  to  formulate  his  plans. 
392 


EICHAED  STEONG  LEAVES  PAEIS       393 

Should  he  see  her  before  he  went?  What  inference 
could  be  drawn  save  that  she  had  no  wish  to  meet  him 
again?  The  Commune  was1  over;  she  was  out  of  dan- 
ger; his  errand  was  ended. 

"Ended !"  He  repeated  the  word  to  himself.  "Yes, 
ended !" — and  touched  a  bell. 

The  proprietor  answered  it  himself. 

"When  does  the  next  steamer  sail  from  Havre?" 

The  man  went  to  a  rack  and  took  therefrom  several 
folders. 

"One  boat  leaves  to-morrow;  another  next  week, 
Tuesday.  Or" — consulting  a  second  list — "if  Monsieur 
cares  to  sail  from  Plymouth — " 

"To-morrow?    Yes;  I  might  go  to-morrow." 

"If  Monsieur  desires,  I  will  book  his  passage." 

"No.  Give  me  the  address.  If  I  decide  to  go,  I  will 
attend  to  it  myself." 

"As  Monsieur  pleases !"  And  with  a  little  shrug  the 
man  left. 

Eestlessly  the  other  strode  to  and  fro,  knowing  he  was 
weak  now;  that  he  hung  back  from  that  which  circum- 
stances told  him  he  should  do.  "It  may  be  she  has 
been  ill."  He  began  to  find  reasons,  excuses  for  his 
failure  to  receive  word  or  message  from  her.  Surmise 
bred  surmise;  expanded  into  apprehension;  the  hotel 


394  BLACK  FRIDAY 

had  become  intolerable,  and,  taking  up  his  hat,  he  left 
the  room. 

"How  shall  I  reach  Madame  Fracard's  ?" 

The  porter  wrote  an  address  on  a  card. 

"Monsieur  turns  three  streets  to  the  left,  two  to  the 
right  and  then  straight  on." 

The  shades  of  twilight  were  falling  as  Richard 
Strong  once  more  left  the  hotel,  but  by  the  time  he  had 
reached  the  vicinity  of  Madame  Fracard's,  night  had 
fairly  enveloped  the  city.  From  the  opposite  side  he 
studied  the  building  and  was  about  to  cross,  when  the 
curtain  of  one  of  the  lower  windows  was  drawn  aside, 
and  plainly  he  saw  her  whom  he  sought;  looking  out — 
with  the  shimmer  of  light  in  her  hair — the  slenderneea 
of  her  figure  outlined  against  the  white  glow  of  the  lamp. 

From  afar  he  regarded  her,  discerning  very  distinctly, 
until  a  swift  movement  of  a  white  hand  and  the  drapery 
was  drawn,  shutting  him  out  from  sight  of  her. 

For  some  moments  he  continued  to  gaze  at  the 
window.  She  was  not  ill ;  had  not  been  ill.  Yet  he  had 
lain  there  at  the  hotel — two  days — alone — 

Slowly  he  began  to  walk  away;  then  stopped.  The 
memory  of  the  light  in  her  eyes  that  night  they  had 
faced  death  together,  seized  him.  He  saw  her  again,  as 
he  had  seen  her  then,  and  retraced  his  steps. 

From  a  neighboring  cafe  came  the  sound  of  voices, 


EICHAED  STEONG  LEAVES  PAEIS       395 

and,  obeying  the  desire  to  linger,  he  moved  toward  one 
of  the  little  iron-legged  tables  and  seated  himself.  Be- 
tween her  window  and  him  flowed  a  ceaseless  traffic;  ait 
the  curb  a  street-singer  twanged  a  guitar;  passing  and 
repassing  many  venders  proffered  their  wares  with  brisk 
interchange  of  pleasantry. 

A  waiter  addressed  to  him  some  inquiry  to  which  he 
nodded  without  hearing,  whereupon  the  man  vanished 
only  to  reappear  with  a  foaming  glass.  As  Eichard 
Strong  sat  there,  the  figure  of  a  woman  leaving  the  Fra- 
card  house  and  turning  quickly  into  the  street,  caused 
him  to  half -start  from  his  chair.  Now  the  lights  from 
the  window  of  a  pastry-shop  shone  upon  her — a  person 
short,  heavy,  of  middle  age — and  again  he  sank  back. 

Darkly  the  walls  of  the  house  across  the  way  con- 
tinued to  answer  his  gaze;  from  one  or  two  windows 
gleamed  a  faint  suggestion  of  a  light  somewhere  within ; 
once  a  spark  flashed  back  and  forth  and  disappeared  like 
a  will-o'-the-wisp.  Over  Eichard  Strong  gradually  crept 
a  strange  impression;  a  feeling  of  dejection;  despon- 
dency. 

Two  chess  players  at  an  adjoining  table  plied  their 
game  and  abstractedly  he  watched  the  moves,  noting 
how  the  conflict  often  hung  in  the  balance. 

To  cross  over,  or  to  return  to  his  hotel?  He  weighed 
the  propositions. 


396  BLACK  FEIDAY 

Now  the  white  men  on  the  chess-board  pressed  the 
black,  but  in  the  contest  honors  were  even.  "If  white 
wins/'  said  Bichard  Strong  to  himself,  "I'll  go  to 
Madame  Fracard's."  He  did  not  know  whether  he 
really  meant  it,  but  with  new  interest,  watched  the  tide 
of  battle.  On,  on,  advanced  the  white  pieces!  The 
loyal  subjects  rallied  to  their  king.  "He  is  lost," 
thought  the  observer,  when  a  sudden  flank  movement,  a 
ewift  pressing  forward  of  knight,  bishop  and  queen, 
and  the  white  king  was  mated. 

Eichard  Strong  arose,  and,  without  stopping  for  the 
change  from  the  silver  piece  he  handed  the  waiter, 
walked  quickly  away.  Later  that  night  he  left  Paris. 


CHAPTER  IX 

AFTER  SEVERAL  MONTHS 

The  months  in  America  that  followed  were  to  Mr. 
Strong,  according  to  his  fellow-men  and  neighbors,  both 
fruitful  and  propitious.  Old  ventures  expanded;  new 
ones  prospered.  A  self-contained  man,  he  was  no  less 
taciturn  than  formerly ;  of  a  solitary  disposition,  he  con- 
fined himself  to  a  well-settled  routine:  His  office — his 
club — his  house — these  were  the  places  he  frequented. 

The  last-named  specific  resort,  the  home  bought  just 
before  his  marriage,  had  become  an  unending  topic  of 
conversation  to  the  neighbors.  It  was  so  aggressively 
large;  so  unreasonably  silent;  so  unreservedly  isolated 
and  retiring,  even  in  that  square  where  peace  and  quiet 
reigned  I  Like  its  master,  it  seemed  to  stand  uncom- 
promisingly apart;  and  gossip,  albeit  somewhat  subdued 
in  that  chosen  corner  of  the  busy  city,  was,  nevertheless, 
rife  with  conjecture  and  reasons. 

But  unconscious  of  the  interest  he  excited  in  the 
breasts  of  others,  Eichard  Strong  continued  to  go  his 
397 


398  BLACK  FEIDAY 

own  way.  Summer  and  autumn  found  him  daily  at  his 
desk  during,  and  after,  Wall  Street  hours,  and  winter 
brought  no  change  in  the  stress  of  his  exertions.  So  the 
seasons  passed;  Christmas  came  and  went,  and  the 
year  grew  old  and  waned.  The  new  year,  too,  promised 
but  a  repetition  of  the  labors  of  the  old,  for  on  that  day 
commonly  regarded  as  a  period  for  rest  and  mutual  fe- 
licitations Tim  Taplin,  repairing  to  the  office,  found  his 
employer  already  there  and  at  his  desk. 

The  chief  clerk  somewhat  ruefully  greeted  Mr.  Strong 
with  the  compliments  of  the  day.  "Excuse  me,  sir,"  he 
then  ventured,  "but  you're  not  going  to  work  to-day?" 

The  other  did  not  answer,  and  Mr.  Taplin,  exercising 
a  privilege  that  came  from  long  service,  went  on:  "If 
you  don't  mind  my  saying  it,  you  don't  know  how  much 
good  it  does  one  to  take  a  day  off  occasionally." 

"Then  why  are  you  here  ?"  said  Mr.  Strong. 

"Well,  sir—"  apologetically— "to  tell  you  the  truth, 
I  rather  suspected  you  might  come  down  and  thought  if 
you  did  you  would  need  some  one — " 

But  his  employer  had  already  turned  to  his  desk; 
indeed,  was  absorbed  in  a  diagram  before  him,  the  draw- 
ings of  one  of  those  simple  inventions  which,  like  the 
air-brake,  or  the  car-coupler,  made  possible  the  growth 
and  spread  of  great  railroad  systems.  Tim  noticed, 
however,  that  Mr.  Strong  did  not  apply  himself  to  the 


AFTER  SEVERAL  MONTHS  399 

study  of  the  device  with  that  interest  its  merits  seemed 
to  warrant,  and,  that  in  dictating  his  letters,  he  paused 
several  times  to  correct  himself.  Finally  he  pushed 
back  his  chair. 

"The  Street  is  too  quiet  for  good  work,  Tim  I  We 
might  as  well  stop/7 

After  the  clerk  had  taken  his  departure,  Richard 
Strong  also  arose.  Perhaps  truly  the  silence  was  op- 
pressive and  he  missed  the  activity  with  which  he  was 
usually  surrounded.  At  any  rate,  the  environment  be- 
came distasteful  to  him;  his  imagination  refused  to  re- 
spond to  the  appeal  of  patents,  labor-saving  devices  or 
even  the  consideration  of  sundry  prospective  corpora- 
tions. 

Work!  work!  work!  What  did!  it  all  profit  a  man? 
A  few  more  railroads;  a  few  more  mines — what  did  they 
matter  to  him  ?  The  whole  scheme  of  strife  in  that  mo- 
ment of  depression  seemed  only  a  child's  game.  Money ! 
— power! — men  but  fettered  themselves  to  golden 
thrones;  then  vainly  clanked  their  chains. 

Impatiently  he  checked  this  train  of  fancy,  and,  walk- 
ing to  the  window,  looked  out.  A  white  fog  overhung 
the  city;  embraced  the  little  isle  with  its  obscuring 
mantle.  At  intervals  he  could  hear  the  sound  of 
fog-horns  afar,  and — so  still  was  the  frosty  air — almost 
fancied  he  could  detect  the  beating  and  puffing  of  boats. 


400  BLACK  FRIDAY 

"It  will  be  difficult  for  steamers  to  enter  the  harbor 
to-day/'  he  thought,  as  he  turned  to  the  grate  and 
stirred  the  coals. 

In  fancy  spectral  ships  continued  to  pass  and  repass. 
He  must  have  fallen  into  a  half-doze  when  a  shuffling  of 
feet  in  the  passage  aroused  him;  the  door  was  pushed 
open  and  a  thin,  small  face  looked  in. 

"Paper,  sir?  New  Year's  address.  I  saw  you  in  the 
window." 

Mr.  Strong  surveyed  the  mite;  took  the  paper  and 
handed  him  a  coin.  The  lad  shuffled  out;  the  footsteps 
ceased. 

The  man  at  the  fire  laid  aside  the  colored  souvenir; 
spread  the  newspaper  on  his  knee,  when  the  steamship 
arrivals  caught  his  glance. 

"Among  the  passengers — on  the  Madrid — Mrs.  Ed- 
win Kossiter — Mrs.  Elinor  Rossiter  Strong — " 

He  ceased  to  read.  During  the  seven  months  interven- 
ing since  he  had  left  Paris,  he  had  heard  from  her  but 
once;  a  letter  of  only  a  few  lines,  sad  and  reserved,  an- 
nouncing the  sudden  but  peaceful  death  of  her  father. 
He  recalled  its  contents  now;  his  own  answer;  that  sub- 
sequent long  period  of  silence.  Only  indirectly  had  he 
ever  learned  of  her;  he  had  not  even  known  she  was 
coming  home.  Again  he  glanced  at  the  newspaper; 
looked  at  his  watch;  then  rising,  drew  on  his  coat  and 
gloves  and  left  the  building. 


AFTER  SEVERAL  MONTHS  401 

Upon  the  street  the  air  was  cold.,  penetrating;  the  fog 
so  thick  the  familiar  church-steeple  lost  itself  somewhere 
behind  the  milky  cloud.  Now  no  sound  broke  the  still- 
ness except  the  monotonous  crunching  of  his  boots  in. 
the  snow,  but  as  he  made  his  way  up-town  a  jingle 
of  sleigh-bells  grew  ever  nearer  and  louder.  All  the 
beaux  and  dandies  were  out,  "making  calls"  with  joyous 
and  democratic  freedom,  the  countenances  of  some  of 
them  as  they  swung  into  view  bearing  unmistakably  the 
rubicund  signs  of  the  hour.  Even  at  his  club — usually 
a  staid  and  quiet  place — Richard  Strong  found  evi- 
dences of  the  Epicurean  aspect  of  the  day  in  a  great 
punch  bowl,  garlanded  with  flowers,  and  a  generous  re- 
past of  tempting  variety,  spread  upon  the  long  tables  in 
place  of  the  erstwhile  sober  literature. 

But  he  did  not  long  remain  there. 

"Going  so  soon?"  called  out  some  one. 

"Of  course!"  said  another.  "Didn't  his  wife  come 
home  yesterday?" 

Once  more  on  the  street,  however,  he  hesitated.  A 
long,  purposeless  day  stared  him  in  the  face.  How 
should  he  spend  it?  His  horses?  Yes;  he  might  take 
them.  out.  But  where  ?  Since  that  night  of  the  Eclipse 
dance,  the  road,  his  favorite  drive,  had  lost  its  attrac- 
tions. He  had  told  himself  this  was  merely  an  un- 
reasonable prejudice — a  road  was  only  a  road,  to  be 


402  BLACK  FKIDAY 

driven  on !  But  in  spite  of  all  reasoning,  he  continued 
to  experience  a  distinct  disinclination  for  the  popular 
thoroughfare. 

He  felt  it  to-day,  stronger  than  ever.  What  then?  'A 
sense  of  impatience  stirred  him  as  he  turned  into  the 
square  and  approached  his  home;  his  well-ordered  mind 
revolted  against  vacillation  and  uncertainty.  Nor  was 
the  appearance  of  his  house  calculated  to  allay  that  feel- 
ing. On  every  hand  lights  shone  from  the  parlors  of 
other  dwellings;  one  mansion  alone  was  dark,  forbid- 
ding. With  shutters  closed  in  many  windows,  it  ap- 
peared almost  tenantless. 

Once  Eichard  Strong  had  sat  in  the  little  park  before 
it  and  wondered  how  it  would  look  when  she  would  be 
mistress  there;  when  her  presence  would  lend  life  and 
light  to  the  great  place.  The  old  memory  intruded  it- 
self. Then  the  flowers  had  bloomed  and  the  birds  had 
sung  around  him,  and  the  barren  stone  walls  had  seemed 
an  Aladdin  palace  of  beauty  in  the  perspective.  But 
flowers  and  birds  had  gone,  and  the  solid  outlines 
were  shorn  of  all  pretense  of  architectural  preeminence. 

"I'll  sell  the  place,"  he  thought,  as  he  ushered  him- 
self into  the  hall. 

Eeflectively  he  looked  before  him  when  a  peculiar 
rustling  sound'  caused  him  to  turn. 

"Who  is  it?"  he  said. 


AFTER  SEVERAL  MONTHS  403 

Only  the  silence  answered. 

"I  am  imaginative  to-day/*  he  thought,  when  the 
sound  was  repeated — in  the  library. 

"Who  is  there?"  he  asked  again  and  quickly  stepped 
forward;  but  stopped. 

Yes ;  there  was  some  one ! — a  girl ! — a  girl  in  black ! 
~For  the  moment  he  could  not  believe  his  senses,  but 
stared  at  her  incredulously.  She  seemed  as  unreal  as  a 
vision,  and  yet  her  eyes  were  bright  with  life;  her  breast 
rose  and  fell  quickly. 

"Elinor!" 

Was  it  his  sudden  exclamation? — the  joy  in  his  voice? 
She  stretched  out  her  hands. 

"Oh,"  she  said,  "I  had  to  come.  I  could  not  stand 
it  any  longer." 

His  heart  leaped  and  the  world  went  round,  as  swiftly 
he  reached  out;  grasped  her  hands. 

"You  had  to  come?" 

Was  it  only  his  eyes  that  spoke  ? 

"I  could  not  help  it,"  she  went  on  hurriedly  and  the 
hands  in  his  trembled.  "There  seemed  only  one  way — 
to  see  you.  Ever  since  that  night  in  Paris  I  have  felt  I 
must  see  you.  No  matter  what  you  might  think !  No 
matter  how  you  might  receive  me!" 

His  fingers  tightened;  he  drew  her  nearer. 

"Why  did  you  want  to  see  me  ?" 


404  BLACK  FRIDAY 

"Why—" 

Her  color  came  and  went. 

"Why?"  She  felt  the  strength,  the  power  of  his 
grasp. 

"Why— because— " 

Some  force  swayed  her  toward  him"  She  raised  her 
head  with  an  effort,  but  her  eyes  met  his  proudly. 

"Because  I  love  you !" 

His  hands  released  her — but  for  an  instant ! — then 
his  arms  enfolded  her,  crushed  her  to  his  breast  and  in 
the  mingled  pain  and  pleasure  of  that  embrace  his  lips 
met  hers. 

"But  you  left  Paris  without  seeing  me  again?" 

He  had  gone  to  the  window  to  throw  back  the  blinds ; 
now  at  her  question,  he  turned. 

"Had  you  sent  word — " 

She  looked  at  him  in  surprise.  "But  I  did! — the 
next  day — by  the  woman — " 

He  went  to  her.    "I  never  received  it" 

"Never  received  the  letter  I  wrote  you — 'that  my 
father  was  very  ill,  unconscious — that  I  had  gone  to 
him — but  would  return — " 

Abruptly  she  broke  off;  a  spark  flashed  up  in  her 
eyes;  her  hand  tightened  in  his. 

"That  woman — she  deceived  me  then — she  feared  to 


AFTER  SEVERAL  MONTHS  405 

go  out — that  night  I  met  you  I  had  gone  for  medicine 
because  she  would  not  go  and  there  was  no  one  else  to 
send." 

"Do  not  think  of  it  now/'  he  urged. 

"But  my  letter  ?  She  told  me  that  she  left  it  f or  you 
• — that  you  were  recovering — later  I  went  myself — you 
were  gone.  My  father" — her  voice  faltered — "died  on 
the  day  you  went  away." 

Gently  he  stroked  her  hair. 

"That  morning  I  left  you — I  was  distracted,  beside 
myself — fearing  for  my  father — they  promised  to  care 
for  you — "  She  paused.  "It  was  so  strange,  my  meeting 
you/'  she  continued  irrelevantly.  "I  have  often  wonder- 
ed how  you  happened  to  be  in  Paris." 

"Because  you  were  there.  Your  father  sent  me  a 
cablegram  that  he  was  ill — you  were  in  danger — " 

She  looked  at  him  with  shining  eyes. 

"You  did  not  know  ?"  he  asked. 

She  shook  her  head,  not  trusting  herself  to  speak. 

"See  !"  he  said.  "The  sun  is  coming  out.  It  is  break- 
ing through  the  mist." 

As  she  followed  his  gaze,  already  the  light  gleamed 
on  branch  and  bough;  it  entered  the  window;  bathed 
them  both.  He  watched  her  hair  grow  golden  and  its 
radiance  held  him  as  by  a  spell.  For  some  time  neither 
spoke. 


406  BLACK  FRIDAY 

Without,  the  sleigh-bells  rang  merrily,  and  the  sound 
of  laughter  and  the  cracking  of  whips  reached  them. 
"The  New  Year!" 
"Our  New  Year!"  she  added  softly. 

Through  the  window  lay  the  world,  snow-white. 
The  prismatic  hues  of  the  reflection  were  dancing  in  her 
eyes. 

"How  long/'  he  said,  "have  you  cared  for  me  ?" 

"Always !"  she  answered  confidently. 

He  made  an  incredulous  gesture. 

"Only— I  didn't  always  know  it." 

"And  when — did  you  know?" 

"After  I  told  you— I  didn't!" 

His  eyes  questioned  her. 

"At  that  moment  I  was  resentful,  capricious — per- 
haps a  little  hurt,  too — that  you  could  turn  from  me — 
on  our  wedding  trip — to  go  back — for  business.  It 
seemed  somehow,  as  if  I  only  came  second  with  you — " 

"Second !"  he  cried. 

"And  then,  if  you  had  only  treated  me  differently] 
after  I  told  you — what  I  didn't  mean !  But  you  looked 
at  me  as  if  I  were  only  a — Proposition." 

"A  what?" 

"A  Proposition!"  she  reiterated.  "And  that  mad* 
me  the  more  perverse."  She  was  silent  a  moment.  "Of 
course  you  couldn't  understand  a  person  who  said — what 


AFTEE  SEVEEAL  MONTHS  407 

she  didn't  mean,  and  you — you  misjudged  me.  Oh,  I 
deserved  it/'  she  added  quickly,  "I  knew  then  I  did!" 

He  put  out  his  arm,  but  she  held  him  from  her. 

"It  seemed,  though,  after  that,  as  if  things  could 
never  be  made  right  and  I  was  so  unhappy  but  too 
proud  to  say  so.  If  you  had  only  been  at  your  office  on 
Black  Friday,  when  I  went  there!" 

He  started.    "You  were  there,  Elinor  ?" 

"Yes,  and  I  thought  then  you  were  going  to  lose*— 
everything — and  I  shouldn't  have  been  then  too  proud  to 
tell  you — "  She  sighed.  "But  you  didn't,  and  the  next 
day  everj'thing  was  wrong  again.  I  was  horrid,  and 
you — "  she  glanced  up  at  him — "you  were,  too !" 

He  laughed  but  did  not  controvert  the  statement'. 

"After  all  it  was  business,  miserable  old  business 
that  separated  us."  She  looked  thoughtfully  at  him  a 
moment.  "I'm  afraid,  Eichard,  you  married  a  very 
foolish,  impractical  girl,  who  dreamed,  perhaps,  of  some 
romantic,  equally  impractical,  Prince  Charming." 

Mr.  Strong  threw  back  his  head.  "Prince  Charming  ? 
I  am  afraid  I  do  not  fit  the  role." 

"N"o,"  she  said,  nodding  her  assent. 

He  looked  down.  Her  lips  curved ;  beneath  her  lashes 
was  a  gleam  like  the  sparkle  of  frost-crystals. 

"You  are  not  my  prince,  perhaps !  I  may  never  meet 
my  prince,  but  I  have  found — " 


408  BLACK  FRIDAY 

He  drew  her  closer;  raised  her  face  to  his. 
" — My  king!';  she  whispered. 

Of  the  small  company  who  "dropped  in"  that  evening, 
no  one  beamed  upon  Mr.  Strong  more  complacently  than 
Mrs.  Rossiter,  while  the  glances  she  bestowed  upon  her 
daughter  were  of  the  tenderest  variety.  The  good  lady 
was  at  a  loss  to  know  how  it  happened — but  it  had  hap- 
pened, there  was  no  doubt  about  that — and  Mrs.  Ros- 
siter might  chafe  a  little  with  natural,  or  maternal,  curi- 
osity, but  fox  the  present  the  fact,  the  bare  fact,  must 
be  sufficient  unto  itself. 

"You  came  home  just  in  time,"  whispered  Posie  to 
Elinor. 

"What  for?" 

"Guess?" 

Which  was  not  difficult  to  do.  Between  Miss  Stanton 
and  Tom  Marks,  who  had  accompanied  her,  had  passed 
many  knowing  glances,  fraught  with  the  weight  of  a 
mighty  mutual  Understanding.  Conscious  of  this 
happy  Secret — which  was  no  secret — Mr.  Marks  lost  his 
shyness.  The  man  thus  trusted  by  Miss  Posie  was  surely 
a  person  of  consequence,  and  Tom  found  a  new  place 
for  himself  in  his  own  estimation.  He  was  no  longer 
the  Shadow,  but  the  Substance ;  the  favored  of  the  fair ; 
the  idol  of  two  roguish  blue  eyes. 


AFTER  SEVERAL  MONTHS  409 

Even  Doctor  Clement's  manner  toward  Richard 
Strong  was  cordial  and  magnanimous.  Perhaps  the  day 
had  something  to  do  with  it,  or  the  cheering  goblet  of 
those  fair  Circes  who  had  presided  in  the  '^best"  houses 
that  day. 

"I  didn't  mind  the  money  so  much/'  he  laughed, 
"but  to  have  it  given  to  Mr.  Beecher's  church — " 

Mr.  Strong  glanced  at  Elinor.  Her  eyes  met  his. 
"Your  church,  Doctor  Clement,  shall  have  a  double 
amount  for  the  poor.  That  is,"  he  added,  smiling,  "if 
there  are  any." 

The  rector  coughed.  "The  poor,  sir/'  he  answered, 
"we  have  always  with  us." 


University  of  California  Library 
Los  Angeles 

TTiis  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


DATE  S 


: 


DEC 

SF.P  2  8  1998 

•fl  DUESHE1VFERD0 


UCLAUR 

3  LD-URL 
NOV031998 


me 
DEI 

i 

JOI 

M 

Form  '. 


3  1158  00528  3410 


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